There was something hypnotic about the snowfall. The way every flake was unique, floating to the ground to pile and be shoveled away. It dusted the evergreens with its gentle white frost in Montréal, Canada; glazing the windows of the small cabin the two Starfleet officers on leave shared. The wind would occasionally rattle those windows, a reminder of just how cold it was.
Inside was another story entirely. A wood fire kept the interior of the cabin warm from the living room, while the officers dozed in the back.

"Brilliant idea. Good night, Data."
"Agreed. Good night, Geordi."