"Cold ... cold ..." he mutters to himself. He looks down at the snow while he thinks.
"There's a story they used to tell in Japan about a woodcutter and his son. Let's see if I can remember the whole thing ..."
After a minute, Miller looks back up at the charming, icy man and launches in: "A woodcutter and son were out working one cold winter when a blizzard rolled in. As luck would have it, they stumbled upon an abandoned hut. It was cozy enough once a fire was lit, and they settled in for the night, hoping the storm would pass by morning and they could head home.
"The woodcutter woke up in the middle of the night to find that the fire had died and the door to the hut was thrown wide open. Then he noticed a woman standing in the dim light. Her skin was pure white, her hair dusted with snow. She approached him and leaned down as if to give him a kiss, but before their lips could touch, she exhaled a long, cold breath. His face crusted over with ice and the old man was immediately dead.
"The woman turned to the son, who was now awake. He was shocked to see his father frozen to death beside him and a beautiful woman staring him in the face. She decided he was too young and handsome to take his life, and spared him on the condition that he never mention what he had seen that night. If he broke this promise, she would kill him.
"Years later, the woodcutter's son fell in love with a woman and started a family of his own. One evening, he was lying next to his wife, watching her in the moonlight. She asked him what he was thinking about. 'About how lucky I am to have such a lovely wife. I've only ever laid eyes on such beauty once before in my life...' and he described the night of the blizzard.
"His wife stood up, and without so much as sparing him a glance, she said, 'For the sake of our children I won't kill you.' A chill wind blasted through the room and she disappeared in a swirl of snow, never seen again."
Story concluded, Miller's eyebrows are both raised expectantly. "So ... cold enough to spare me a little warmth?"
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"There's a story they used to tell in Japan about a woodcutter and his son. Let's see if I can remember the whole thing ..."
After a minute, Miller looks back up at the charming, icy man and launches in: "A woodcutter and son were out working one cold winter when a blizzard rolled in. As luck would have it, they stumbled upon an abandoned hut. It was cozy enough once a fire was lit, and they settled in for the night, hoping the storm would pass by morning and they could head home.
"The woodcutter woke up in the middle of the night to find that the fire had died and the door to the hut was thrown wide open. Then he noticed a woman standing in the dim light. Her skin was pure white, her hair dusted with snow. She approached him and leaned down as if to give him a kiss, but before their lips could touch, she exhaled a long, cold breath. His face crusted over with ice and the old man was immediately dead.
"The woman turned to the son, who was now awake. He was shocked to see his father frozen to death beside him and a beautiful woman staring him in the face. She decided he was too young and handsome to take his life, and spared him on the condition that he never mention what he had seen that night. If he broke this promise, she would kill him.
"Years later, the woodcutter's son fell in love with a woman and started a family of his own. One evening, he was lying next to his wife, watching her in the moonlight. She asked him what he was thinking about. 'About how lucky I am to have such a lovely wife. I've only ever laid eyes on such beauty once before in my life...' and he described the night of the blizzard.
"His wife stood up, and without so much as sparing him a glance, she said, 'For the sake of our children I won't kill you.' A chill wind blasted through the room and she disappeared in a swirl of snow, never seen again."
Story concluded, Miller's eyebrows are both raised expectantly. "So ... cold enough to spare me a little warmth?"