Freya kept her stoney-faced expression neutral, despite the annoyance prickling at the back of her head about the slight, if unintentionally conceited comment. She nodded quietly.

"Yes, that is correct. He still refuses to so much as take his medications, let alone stand up from his chair for one blessed second to stretch. He's always been content with whining about his travelling aches just for the sake of it. And as for my mother, she is fine. As fine as one could be when they have to practically raise their husband."

She paused, pursing her pale lips. What had gotten into her? She'd never talked of anyone like that, let alone her parents. Even in jest. And there was the second strange part. Had she actually made a joke? Overcoming her shocked introspection, she sighed, folding her hands in front of her waist.

"How have you been? And who might this young lady be?"

Freya liked Snowdin. She had only ever been to the secluded winter village once in her life, during her childhood. Her mother and father took her to see the giant fir tree in the center of town, strung with lights and ornaments galore, and wrapped in a shimmering garland that twisted all the way up to the top of the gargantuan fauna. It seemed as though Snowdin was perpetually filled with a folksy holiday spirit, and Freya had found that marinating in the cheer of the never-ending season left her in a considerably cheerier mood than when she had come. So, when Adam Gryphon, her well meaning, if slightly inept superior told her to bugger off for the weekend, in far cruder terms due to his slight intoxication at the time of their impromptu meeting, she complied, and figured that Snowdin would beat the loud, bustling, bustling Capitol of the underground. She almost laughed as she remembered the way he phrased it.

"Freya, if I see your beautiful stonework in this office beyond the threshold of the next five minutes I'll have you by the 'stones' for trespassing. Am I clear, luv?"

The falcon monster stared her dead in the eye with his sickly yellow, deathly bloodshot eyes, meeting her inscrutable, stone-faced gaze.

"As long as you don't ruffle your feathers when you realize kept working long after I left this hellish nightmare you call an office.".

He had simply scowled drunkenly at her as she passed him, pleased with her handiwork. He probably wouldn't even remember it by Monday morning anyways.

Stifling a chuckle, Freya pushed the thought of her inappropriate boss to the back of her mind. The strange aura of the snow twinkling down around her, and catching in the slight frays of her crimson sweater had already begun to work wonders on her usually uninviting demeanor. She even decided to take a rare departure from her intimidating plate and bloodred dresses. Truly in the spirit of relaxation, she made her way through the snow in a red wool sweater, and a tight fitting pair of dark blue denim jeans. Her black leather boots shimmered a dull black luster in the light emanating from the glittering storefronts. She clung tightly to the straps of her black canvass messenger bag, where her laptop, along with several case files and assorting materials for a working marathon sat in anticipation.

After a short walk further, and she had finally entered Snowdin proper. She was almost excited to find a cozy place to sit and get some work done. A refreshing change of pace from her gloomy office complex, to be sure. In her childlike giddiness she could almost smell the assorted caffeinated drinks she would sicken herself on. On second thought... was that coffee, she smelled? Her eyes narrowed like a dog on the chase, and after a moment of her searchlight-like eyes darting around the various shops and stores on the main street, she find her quarry: Espresso Yourself, a quaint cafe on the street corner. Freya nodded vigorously to herself, clutching the strap of her bag tighter, and made a beeline past the great tree in the town square.

The door rang with her entry, a deep, low pitched bell chimed gloomily. Freya scanned the room, seeing the diverse populace of Snowdin happily drinking the houses finest, making light chatter over all manners of drinks, just as varied as the patrons themselves. She stood there briefly, almost stunned at the sudden explosion of strange faces. After she took a moment to compose herself, Freya almost visibly shook off her shock, and walked swiftly over to the counter, as quick as her legs could carry her without seeming in a hurry. After taking a moment to ponder the overhead menu, Freya glanced down at the monster at the counter, screwing up her nerves and dislike of speaking to strangers.

"I'll have a pumpkin spice latte, with four pumps of espresso, a shot of caramel, whipped cream, and in the largest size you can give me." She spouted out quickly.