Convenience trumps pride; he gets back on the creature's ... back, and from there it's a fairly short trip into the cave.

It's fractionally, fractionally warmer inside-- no more than a little drifted snow on the floor, and out of the wind, at least-- and Jason says another scrupulously polite 'thank you' to the entity as he dismounts. Much better to be safe rather than sorry when it comes to unknown creatures and their lethal capabilities.

He is quite cold, although not as frozen as he should be, as a strictly-human person would be. Etrigan rages like a furnace inside him, and that is not merely metaphor.

Jason digs inside the many pockets of his outermost parka until his fumbling, numb fingers find what they're looking for: the pack of chemical hand warmers he'd grabbed before trekking out into the snow.

It takes a few tries with his hands stiff and trembling in the gloves but at last he gets a pack open.

"I d-don't suppose one of these will do-- you any good."