Ice smiles and holds out her hand. "You've never adapted to my cold. Touch my wrist." She knew that if he did, it would be like grabbing something frozen with nitrogen, which is it being so cold that it can actually burn you. Her pale skin seems translucent in the limited amount of light. "My body is different from most. Instead of sweat, my body produces a thin layer of ice that goes over it as protective armor. An adaptation that happened after the evac three years ago. My body takes 'sweat' as 'I'm being attacked'." 

She looks up as the newcomer joins them. "There's a safe house in the city?" she questions. Her arm is still out there. "And who, exactly, are you?" Ice begins to form on her hands again.