Snowstorm

    “Hold still!”
    “I am.”
    “No you’re not!”
    “Well excuse the fuck out of me for not being the steadiest on my feet in the middle of a god damn snowstorm.”
    “Oh quit your bitching!” 
    Edward squinted down at Crane, flying snow and howling wind blurring everything, even his hearing. He shifted atop the strawman’s shoulders, reverting his attention to the temporarily stationary aerial and the device he was currently wiring into it. It was delicate work, better suited by far for less violent conditions, but he’d planned the entire three-day operation down to the last minute and it wasn’t his fault if mother nature decided on a temper tantrum. He wasn’t Weather Wizard for god’s sake.
    “Hurry the hell up, Nigma—and this is your fault, so I have every right to bitch as much as I damn well please.”
    Eddie barely refrained from kicking him. Barely.
    “Excuse you, I’m not the one who doesn’t know how to dress for a snowstorm,” He shouted above the wind, carefully laying down another panel of decoy wiring. “I mean really, you’re dressed up in flannel and scarves when it’s seventy degrees out, but the one time—”
    Crane smacked his knee—there was too much padding for it to hurt but the intent was there.
    “Just finish the damn job!”
    “Would it kill you to be patient?”
    “It might!”
    Eddie shouted a few choice curses down at him, closing off the little box.
    “Fine! Done! Now put me down or I swear to god—”
    Crane, to his credit, chose to dump him in a nearby snowdrift instead of the hard concrete roof, but Eddie resented the hell out of being dropped.