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Chapter two: Routine

It hadn't taken long for the meeting of the two to become habit. Always in the same park, always ignoring stares and glares (all, obviously, directed at Rion), and always winding up ending with some sort of contest.

In fact, it had become such a natural thing that all residents knew exactly when they meet, and when they'd leave each other's company.

Rion and his mysterious 'nothing' had become another town mystery, accepted yet denied by all. Though, really, Jack chuckled as he chucked another snowball at someone's head, Rion silently doodling in the snow by his side, how it was people could claim adults weren't childish was beyond him.

After all, almost fifty percent of the adults he hit would either flip him the bird, cuss, or send a snowball flying back—always, of course, missing.

"Adults are nothing more than big children." Rion murmured, once again appearing to read Jack's mind (something that both annoyed and humored the teen greatly), "The only real difference is that they're in denial…and they have more dangerous toys."

Jack nodded in consideration, inwardly pleased that he'd managed to get the dead-child (the nickname seemed fitting, considering how the whole presence of the child was dark, cold, and dead—which, if he thought about it, was ironic) to speak to him so openly. "I guess that makes sense," he declared with a nod, swiping his staff across the ground, a grin lighting his pale face as a poor couple wound up flying backward into a trash can. "Though what type of toys are you talking about?" Jack innocently laughed; eyes bright from memories of children and North's workshop.

Rion stiffened for no more than a millisecond, eyes flashing with memories that reeked of blood, before he took a calming breath and allowed his hallow eyes to glance at the still grinning buffoon—as Rion had secretly began to call him.

Tapping thin fingers on the ice Rion allowed himself a small smile as he felt Jack's innocent gaze rest on the top of his bent head, "Guns, knives, bombs, cars, airplanes, whips, maces, high priced high heels, chain saws, axe's, lawn mowers—"

"Hold up!" Jack cried with a raise of his hand, ice-cavern eyes watching as the dead-child slowly raised his head, face carefully blank, "half of that stuff are weapons, and did I really just hear you classify high heels as a toy?"

The child allowed a small, dark, cold smile to grace his features, eyes flashing with well kept secrets, "You'd be surprised how depraved humanity can be."

If Rion hadn't been looking directly into Jack's eyes he would have missed the sudden flash of fear, of pain, that flooded into the ice-caverns and threatened to drown any poor soul who'd dared to take a peek at their beauty. For Jack had knowledge of how depraved humanity could be, one didn't live for around three hundred years and not notice such things, after all, one of his best friends * had been killed due to humanities inner darkness.

But it was Jack's job, as the Guardian of Fun, to look at the good things, to make things fun and to make people smile. So the pain, the fear, it only lasted for an instant, before a teasing grin spread across his face, "Like a depraved apple." He laughed as Rion blinked in confusion, hallow eyes no longer dark as they shimmered with the light of the snow. "You make absolutely no sense." The child muttered before he turned his back on Jack, standing and softly patting off his slightly past nee length shorts, "you're like an artless snowflake."

"Artless!" Jack gapped, quickly grabbing a snowflake as it fluttered to the ground, "snowflakes may be a part of nature—and are thus natural—" Rion poked the snow with a shoe, twirling his foot around in order to keep himself from laughing, "—but they are anything but simple!"

And thus the rant began, Jack going on and on about how much detail was put into each and every snowflake—that, Rion dully noted, lasted no more than a second in his hands—and how beautiful they were.

Standing in the snow, the death-child stared at what appeared to be thin air. And not once did he shiver, even as the wind picked up just so and played with his short-sleeve hoodie.

Eventually Jack's rant came to an end (its length being entirely blamed on North) and it was time for the two to depart, Jack back to Jamie and Rion to…wherever the child went.

"Where do you live?" the winter's child randomly asked, head tilted up and eyes closed.

"Where do you?" the death-child countered, hallow eyes—no longer reflecting the snow's light, for the light was hidden by clouds—watching silently as a mouse ran towards them, accompanied by a cat as they ran from a stray pack of dogs.

"Well," Rion whispered to himself, though the wind carried it swiftly to Jack's awaiting ears, "isn't that a strange sight."

In a blink Jack had the dogs trapped in a frozen prison cell, standing proudly atop it's strangely intricate glory as he leaned on his staff, watching laughingly as Rion tried his hardest to stay still while a cat and mouse used him as a jungle gym, jumping from one part of his body to the next until they found there preferred perch: the mouse in dirty blond hair and the cat wrapped around the boys neck like a scarf.

"Well, well, well," Jack laughed while tapping his staff upon the cage, creating an ice slide that, after he opened the prison cell, sent the stray dogs skittering to some random place outside of town. "Looks like you're loved—mister animal man."

"That was lame." Was the all too bland response, sending Jack into another bout of laughter.

Which thus sent Rion's eyebrow twitching, "don't you need to go somewhere?" the death-child sighed after a while, mouse squeaking and cat yawning in agreement.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going." Jack laughed again, only with far more control, as he rose in the air, the winds eager to carry him back to Jamie, to home, "See you later deathmon*!"

And Jack Frost was gone.

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A/N: Due to the three reviews I received I decided to at least attempt to continue, so here's the second chap. However, should people still wish for me to continue after this, then please send another three reviews.

*the best friend Jack mentioned is from my one-shot "The Song I Sing"

*"deathmon"—the reasoning behind this name is…almost non-existent, but I figured that the characters from Digimon loved cute cuddly things (monsters and animals alike), so why on earth not? Besides, the main characters from Digimon always wind up having all sorts of creatures liking them…