The cold of his hand on her skin is almost startling, but that only makes it better, the heat of him more desirable still when even her hair feels frozen. The contrast is a pleasant one and, tangling a hand in his clothes, Meredith presses against him, grateful for the arm circling her, keeping her from just stumbling along backwards. As it is, she likes him the better for not being holiday-oriented; no holiday's as good as this. "Keep that up," she says breathlessly, "and we'll just have to turn around and go home." That doesn't stop her from going right back to kissing him, fast enough that she doesn't have to think about calling his place home either.