Eddie. [ the young man shudders, nose crinkling like he's been called something that sounds too strange. it is, actually, because eddie's only ever called 'mr. munson' by educators who are in the mood to talk down to him. ] Mr. Munson's my uncle.

Sweet. I figured it might be a long shot. [ but there's a grin on eddie's face. ] No rest for the wicked, doc. Or those trying to earn a quick coin.

[ don't look too closely in his little jar, there's not really anything in there today. eddie's normally not that coordinated so it's no surprise that with such cold, stiff fingers he ends up fumbling with the matches and playing a game of them bouncing from hand to hand until he's squatting in front of the fountain with them cupped between his hands. ] Thanks, man.

[ and then he proceeds to do what might some find horrifying and stupid, which is lighting a match in one hand and holding it with trembling fingers while he holds the fingers of his other hand near the flame in a quick attempt to warm those babies up. ]