➥stuck-in-an-airport-because-the-flights-were-SO-VERY-delayed-and-it's-like-two-am au

The model blew air through her nose, irritated. Her flight to London had been pushed back for the third time, and she was tired. She brushed her bangs from her eyes tiredly and sat, perching her purse on the chair next to her.

"Excuse me-"

She groaned inwardly and sat up, heel connecting with the tiled floor. She wasn't up for signing autographs. Still she put on the face her manager wanted her to. "Yes, doll?"

He looked a little disheveled, wearing dark scrubs. His hair was getting a bit long in the back, and his facial hair needed shaving.

"Do you know when the next flight to London is leaving?"

"Not for another two hours," She replied, turning her head to let him know he was dismissed. When he didn't get the hint, she rummaged through her purse for her lipstick.

"Do you happen to have a bandage?" He asked.

Pursing her lips, she pulled a band-aid from her purse and handed it to him. She noticed the cuts on his hands and almost asked what happened, when she realized it wasn't her job to be dealing with him. She was supposed to be partying in first class and wearing a gold dress while her on-again off-again boyfriend took pictures of her.

He sat, exhausted. He tucked his hands into the pockets on the shirt and closed his eyes.

"Long day?" Shit, did that come out of her mouth?

He opens an eye and smirks. "A little yeah. Yours?"

She shrugged. Early morning for primp and prodding and adjustments for her new lingerie line, watching her hair be yanked in the mirror and her face turn to that of someone else, stepping on the scale and watching it finally drop a pound.

He rubs his eyes. "I'm gonna get a cup of coffee. Want one?"

She fishes through her bag. "Skim milk, no sugar?"

He takes the crumpled money from her palm and walks down to the cafe. His scrubs are crumpled and she realizes he was probably working.

He comes back with the hot coffee and hands one to her. She wraps her painted fingernails around it and breathes it in deeply. "French vanilla?"

"I didn't know what you like, and it's my favorite." He looks down at his Styrofoam cup and drags his thumb along the lip. "So how was your day?"

"A little tiring. I had to work on my l- clothing line, and now I'm waiting for this godforsaken flight so I can go model it tomorrow evening."

He looked at her funny, then his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! You're-" His fingers snap, but he can't recall the name.

"Elsa."

"Right." He looks embarrassed while he sips his coffee. "I saw one of your shows once, my cousin dragged me to it."

"Oh?" She asked. Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. Signing autographs was one thing, but talking to someone about how they felt about her was different.

"The one with your blue dress. I think Anna said it was supposed to be modeled after ice."

"Yeah it was. It was pretty fun, cause I got to wear that dress and cloak that was all modest and then throw it off for the one underneath."

He smiles, listening to her talk.

"What about you? I assume you're not a critic for fashion shows because you would be saying something about my hips."

"You'd be right there. I'm a surgeon."

"A surgeon?" She asked, exasperated. Suddenly fascinated, she sat her coffee aside. "So then why are you going to London?"

"They wanted to fly me in for a surgery, but given the delays I doubt I'm going to get there in time."

"Don't they usually fly you in special?"

He shrugged. "Weather is too bad I guess?"

She didn't know a lot about flights, so she shrugged in agreement. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't." He smiles warmly, adjusting his shirt. "Hans Westergård."

"Like THE Westergård?"

"Well, yes."

"The ones that run the colleges and hospitals-" She cuts herself off, realizing once again that he's a surgeon. "Oh!"

"And what about you, Elsa?"

"What about me?" She asked, giggling. She held up her arm to unravel her bun into a long french braid.

"What's your family like?"

"Nothing much. My parents died when I was eighteen - on a boat to Miami for my cousin's wedding."

"Is your cousin famous too?" He asked, voice gently mocking her.

"Ever heard of Rapunzel?"

He thinks a moment. "Yes?"

"That's her. Obviously it's not her real name, but she had all that long blonde hair for, like, ever when she was filming that movie."

"I thought she was a singer?"

"Multi-talented." To be perfectly honest, Elsa had been jealous of her cousin. Not only could she act and sing, but she still had normal hobbies like knitting and gardening, plus she was pretty, though not in the doll way Elsa was.

Hans, sensing her discomfort, redirected the conversation. "So how much longer you think til the flight comes in?"

"She said two hours and..." Elsa glanced at her phone. "It's one fifty, it probably got pushed back again."

"I can ask if you like?"

"That'd be really nice of you." She smiled while he shifted his stuff aside to get up, stretching from sitting in the same position so long.

He returned ten minutes later, pulling his bag onto his lap as he sat. "Thirty minutes."

She yawned, and rifled through her purse for her compact mirror. Her eyeliner was a bit smudged, and she wanted to fix that before she saw Jack.

They sat in silence while she fixed her make up and hair, adjusting the too short silver dress and high heels. Jack was just going to have to deal with morning breath, she decided. There was no way she could stay up any longer.

They called for their flight, and she noticed a couple of other people getting up to board. She guessed no one liked riding in the middle of the night, and she briefly wonders why she is.

He jogs up to her right before she goes to get on. "Hey, so, uhm, would it be weird if I gave you my number?"

She opens her mouth to say she has a boyfriend and it'd be weird and ruin her image, but common sense reminds her that Jack is a douche who's broke up with her more times than he has bones in his body, and in the morning it's going to be another step in their endless dance of flings. So, she nods, and he scribbles down numbers on her Agent's calling card.

She walks away, already pulling out her phone to send him a message.

Hey, gorgeous.