Michelangelo can hear Raphael raging before he even makes it within sight of him; can hear the clang clang of deflected blows, hear the harsh gasping and growling as Raphael grows out of breath and can almost hear the frustration pouring off of him like a tangible thing. His temperamental brother's fits were famous within the family; he would scream, shout, rage- curse, strike things, people, but eventually his anger would bleed itself dry and he'd shuffle off somewhere to reflect. Raph's temper never really truly scared anyone; not in the sense of fearing for one's own safety. Raphael had only seriously lost his temper with Michelangelo a couple times, but he could forgive him that.

He still hated it when things got like this. He just...didn't know what to do.

So instead he picked a tree nearby, Raphael within his sight, and sat down in the snow to lean against it with his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms around them, conserving warmth. Raphael would burn himself out eventually, right? And then they could go. And if Raphael collapsed on the way back, well...Mike would carry him and then rub his face in it later. Because that's how it should be.

Mike rested his chin on his knee. Man, I wish the others were here...