and he shall be called: Frost

It was funny watching her indecision, shifting from one epithet to another when it was a superficial thing. “I can call you Frost. Frost is a good name — it’s a cool name, it suits you, right?” She was on the balls of her feet, rolling back and forth, to yes and no.

This certain photo-capturing device — he whom she would proudly wear around her neck as to readily freeze splendid moments in time — provides her such shocking power of captivity whilst making her heart flutter helplessly in her ribs that were cages.

She smiles now, holding on to that thought, then remembering those memories all coming into trickles — the way she frustratedly fought with correcting the focus and the colors slightly saturated altogether. This camera, he makes her feel the way Volkov does towards Frost — oh that tickling Chuck Season 4 episode mainly responsible for suggesting the name to her head.

She lets out a giddy little laugh as it sinks in, because with all honesty, she knows she really identifies her Nikon D3100 with the adjective/agent Frost. And as if on cue, a song from the boy whose golden voice melted all her visceral organs immediately played: …remember my name.

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