"I think if the season changes to something more agreeable with him then we would all agree that we have been here too long." Doc had lived most of his life in warmer counties, too, but a deathly cold winter at the bottom of a well freezes any kind of preference right out of you. At that point it's just a matter of surviving, and. Honestly maybe he still thinks in that frame of mind sometimes. Just surviving, rather than actually thinking about living.

They are back at their house now, and Doc, he unconsciously checks the footprints in the snow around near the front door. He runs his hand up a length of the side of the door as he gets it open, feeling for any signs of a break-in. Maybe he's paranoid. Maybe he just does these things to reassure himself. It takes him a mere few seconds to deem it okay to re-enter with his guard down, and then he's checking to see if anyone else is around the communal areas of the house.

Maybe one day he'll feel safe enough to just walk in, but. In this place? It's highly doubtful.