A.N: Yeah, so I got sick of not being original with Ronnie, so I made a whole new character with a better sense of humor and an ounce of originality. Sue me, okay? Besides, after a while "Ronnie and Riley" gets hard to say.

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"Valerie…" I warned, dressed in green pajama pants (complete with bunnies and the phrase "Snow Bunny") and a loose white Metro Station band tee. "Valerie, what day is it?" I asked, walking down the stairs, pausing to slip on a pair of checkered Vans.

The blonde on the couch groaned. "Thursday."

"That's right, Thursday. Thursday's MY day, Val. Now scooch, we're watching a classic," I announced, grabbing a DVD case from the bookshelf. Excited, I jumped onto the couch, sitting cross-legged, pulling a fly-away strand of chestnut-brunette hair back behind my ear. I love my hair some days. One of those days was today, when I slept right and my mid-back brunette hair had a lovely gentle curl.

"Omigod, Alice. Alicen Taylor Cameron. By 'classic' I'm sure you mean-" she started, and seeing little Benjamin Gates assured her she was right.

"Yes, National Treasure, good God, Valerie. So I love the movie, sue me!" I replied. What was so wrong with the movie? It was educational, full of trivia, and had a happy ending.

"No, you love Mr. Riley Poole," Valerie muttered, just loud enough to make sure I heard her.

"Liar!" I shouted at her, grabbing a pillow from behind me and starting to smack her.

"What the..? Hey! Hey, stop smashing my computer with your surprisingly hard pillow!" I heard someone shout back at me. A male someone. Stopping with the pillow held above my head, I looked at the computer. I had seen that map before. Looking at the owner, I saw none other than Riley Poole.

"But that's insane," I said aloud accidentally. Riley can't be real, he's a fictional character. I looked out the window at the arctic tundra, and that's when the cold hit me. "Um, I have a question?"

"We have some, too! Like how on Earth you got in here!" Riley replied, his voice still slightly raised. I couldn't blame him, if a twenty-one year old girl in "Snow Bunny" pajama pants appeared next to you in a snowmobile and started smashing your computer calling it a liar, I'd be freaked out, too.

"I have no honest clue," I told him, shivering now. It's funny how once you realize it's cold, the sensation of it hits you full force. "But before your interrogation, can I please get a jacket or blanket or something?" I asked hurriedly. I could have sworn I saw my fingertips going blue. Riley looked over to me, seeing just a band tee and pajamas.

"Heh. 'Snow Bunny'. Ironic." He smiled slightly before my question re-entered his thoughts. "I… Uh… Ben?" Riley asked, leaning forward to speak with the driver, Ben Gates.

"Fine, I don't want a corpse on our hands," he joked, and leaned over slightly, digging around in the front seat for spare jackets. "Here," he said, holding it back. Oh, thank God. Warmth, size extra large.

"So, uh… what's your name?" Riley asked as I zipped up the jacket.

"Alicen Taylor Cameron, aged twenty-one, residing in Bayonne, New Jersey, student of medical sciences at Sanford-Brown, roommate to Valerie Fairnew. Any questions that aren't boring?" I replied. Riley just stared at me for a moment before the snowplow lurched to a stop. "Didn't think so."