"You mean it's not just tropical weather until it turns into Victorian London?" Carla Jean asks with a crooked smile, the question clearly one she already knows the answer to. It's a little strange to think about, actually, after her Texan upbringing and the island, but something like that is the least of her concerns. She'll get used to it. She thinks she might be lucky to have a chance to at all. Killing Chigurh is what's left her shaken, if that's even the word for it, but it hits her distantly that, not all that long ago, she'd had the barrel of a gun trained on her for the second time. She could have been the corpse left behind instead. Some cold weather isn't going to do much. "Alright, that sounds good. I clearly wasn't plannin' on changin' universes."