"Are you sure you won't mind?" Huaisang asks, wanting to be polite and yet eager for the offered warmth. "I'd be very grateful." He shivers again, unable to help it. Nylon stockings don't do much to keep in the warmth, so his legs especially are practically bare, and he wonders if this is how he's going to die: freezing to death at a festive false village.

"I can't find any doors leading back or any other magical works in this place. If we're not counting the electricity." That's definitely magic in Huaisang's opinion, but it seems to be the only reliably magic thing in this world. Everything else is variable at best, and none of his own charms work at all. "I suppose we're going to have to walk back."