Notes 1: Sorry I've been away, I have a reasonable excuse – I got a Netflix account.
Related but also unrelated, I recommend watching The Good Place and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. Anna and Hans' voice actor and actresses are in those shows. I say it's unrelated because, no, I didn't stalk the voice actors. I actually have a fear of stalking. My housemates were actually the ones raving to me about the shows – so yeah, no connection to Frozen.
Anyway, I'm doing just that with a chance of getting some inspiration of writing Anna and Hans a little better. However, the characters they play in those said shows are BOTH a bit/complete assholes, so if you're not the type to fall for problematic favs, maybe don't watch it. Instead, I suggested watching Dumplin' – best two hours of my life!
(But, some advice, watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend but don't binge watch it. Because I did that and it was too intense and somewhere between like 12 minutes into an episode, I started crying for no apparent reason. Just full of tears, my shoulders were shaking and I couldn't breathe so … not a feeling you want to hit you in the face)
Notes 2: Guest, regarding your comfort and the hate message –
I actually found it hilarious! I can't believe he wasted time he'll never get back reading something he knew he'd hate! He even took the time to review! Slapstick comedy gold, I tell you! It's so funny and, he acted like the one thing he hates the most – Hans. He acted like our Hans; our prince, our monster, so mean and so cruel.
He also sounded pretty insecure, which I don't understand why he would be? Like, have you seen the ElsaAnna archives? That fandom is blessed! They have so many fanfics! I wish I was that lucky to have that many reading material, I'd never go a day bored! I feel bad for the ElsaAnna fandom now, he's giving them a bad name.
But, man, to have free time like him, can you imagine having that many hours to throw away? To hate on a fictional character; a thing that doesn't exist? What a wild concept! Anyway, I've blocked him so he can go be annoying somewhere else ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
(also, I've been on fanfic net for a decade and broken!Elsa has dated waaay back to 2014. getting mad at this version is like getting mad at history!)
Notes 3: Seagulls are evil (and fugly). I've written a paragraph why – thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
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white knight syndrome
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vii
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Elsa hates seagulls.
Honest to God hates them, those birds are the devil in another form – wreaking havoc, stealing food, gawking angrily and shitting on people who stroll by the sea.
Stupid seagulls. Elsa thinks shuddering, trying not to walk too closely to Hans and use the redhead man as a human shield. Well, she says she's trying not to use him as a human shield, but also the exact opposite, you know? Just in case a seagull does decide to swoop down and snatch her ice-cream.
If Elsa remembers correctly, that had happened once when she and Anna were kids, feeding ducks and ducklings by a pond. It had been a pleasant and dandy day until a seagull came out of nowhere, plucked a duckling mid-air and swallowed it whole. To say it was horrifying wouldn't have done it justice. It was scarring and Elsa doesn't remember much after that. To be honest, Elsa thinks she had probably suppressed that memory (like many other things) – but Elsa also thinks that she remembers some part of it. Like how fragile a baby duck's neck can be, how easy it snapped that way, and of how Anna's tears sounded fresh in her ears. She hasn't heard Anna cry since –
Squeezing the straps of her shoulder bag, Elsa shoos her thoughts away and concentrates on something else, like the lovely seashells on the sandy ground. She's tired of over-thinking and calls out, beginning a conversation, "Hans?"
"Hmm?"
"What are we even doing here?" She asks.
She's trying to piece the puzzles together. The puzzle known as her boss. She's still lost from a few days ago. And she wants to understand, she wants to find out answers because Hans is confusing and nothing matches up. Elsa knows life doesn't make sense most of the time (look at her, for example) but she refuses to let things be. Is it bad that she wants to undercover everything? All this information? Information that she doesn't know what to do with or what the use of it will be for?
"I like the sea." Hans simply says with ease, walking beside her.
'And you couldn't go alone?' Elsa wants to ask but hesitates because, by the way he had said it, it almost felt vulnerable. Colour had rushed to his cheekbones and the freaking sea breeze had flown through his red hair so effortlessly like he belonged to the sea himself.
From the corner of her blue eyes, she watches Hans closely. She catches Hans eyes soften, for a moment – a small flash – moving from being hard like an emerald stone to calming like the waves washing ashore. In this light, his eyes almost reflected the ocean, sea green –
"Earth to my personal intern." Hans' voice booms, snapping his long fingers in front of Elsa.
Silver rings swim in her vision before she blinks the sight away and turns to him fully. Her pale face twists and her mouth forms into a sharp downward curve. Elsa swears she's going to get wrinkles from all this frowning.
"I'm not your personal intern." Elsa snaps lightly. Maybe it was the weeks of frustration or the fear of seagull poop threatening to fall from the sky, but Elsa was having none of Hans' bullshit today.
Amusement washes over his features. Is he surprised that she's voicing out her opinions? She almost crushes the ice-cream in her hand.
Hans tells her with a twinkling look, "Say that again." I dare you.
"I," Feeling sweat gather at the back of her neck, Elsa tries not to stutter. "I'm not your personal intern."
"Uh-huh, then why were you tidying my desk the other day like it was your job?" He asks back, smartly and a little proud. He's too smug.
Fuck you. She thinks, looking away, thinking he's annoying. If she had continued staring at him, she would have noted him rolling his eyes.
"Okay, rephrase –" Elsa turns back to face Hans as he says this to her. "– you're shadowing me, aren't you? So, in a way, it's a little like having you as a personal intern." Hans says with a snort and this time, she does catch him rolling his emerald eyes.
Elsa didn't think it was possible, but her mouth dips lower into a deeper frown. "Do you even know what 'shadowing' means?" She holds back the urge to tell him all they've done is hang out and eat fancy lunches.
"That's some attitude. I didn't think you had it in you to be this snappy. Did you wake up on the wrong side of bed?" Is he mocking her?
"No." She says shortly and resists the urge to turn away from him once more.
Honestly. Honestly?
Why are they here? Why the beach? It's not that Elsa hadn't gotten used to being dragged everywhere but she had figured their 'outings' would be restricted to work days. She hoped that that one Sunday was just a one-time thing. But, the thing is, just like many things about Hans Westergaard, nothing is a one-time thing, it's a repetitive cycle. A habit, even.
It's Sunday and she's with Hans – again. This insufferable, impossible man. He hasn't taken up her Sunday since that other week!Okay, so he did say she kinda 'owed' him a day after she 'bailed' on him for Mulan's going away party. This (whatever 'this' even is) is an improvement from the first occasion, he did 'warn' her beforehand. But, to take up the one free day she has – it was still bothersome.
What's his motive? What. is. it, damn it?
As Elsa's waist deep in thought again, a strong breeze comes by, blasting sea salt into her face and pushing her into Hans. Elsa swore she almost tripped and mashed her ice-cream into Hans' shirt. His very expensive shirt, and she won't lie – she would cry if that happened. It's not something she can afford.
"Do you want to sit down somewhere?" Hans asks her after steadying her with his free hand. His occupied hand doesn't touch his dessert. If Elsa didn't think he was strange before, she thinks he's stranger now – he asked for ice-cream in a cup. Not a cone. A cup.
'Can I just go home instead?' Elsa wants to ask instead because, not to be Anakin Skywalker, but sand stuck between her toes isn't the best feeling. It isn't pleasant. Her Summer in general, isn't pleasant. But doesn't say any of those things. She just nods at his question.
A shiver runs down Elsa's back as Hans' hand stays on her shoulder. She feels the heat of his palm and the feeling of her shoulder bag wedged between them.
Thinking to herself, Elsa wants to argue that she doesn't need him holding onto her like this. She wants to say that she's not that brittle. A part of her wants to say 'don't touch me so freely' but another part of her doesn't want to explain anything so she settles with this weirdness and lets him guide her to a place to sit. She's so uncomfortable (and confused).
Regardless, Elsa feels grateful that he's not touching her bare shoulder, no skin-on-skin contact, she's bundled up in a hoodie (thanks to the memory of how chilly the sea breeze can be and that one time Anna thought it would be a great idea to wear a skirt to the beach only to have constant Marilyn Monroe moments of trying to tame her flying skirt). Speaking of tame, Elsa really wished she had brought a hair-tie, the wind is really messing her hair. Her overgrown bangs are pushed back by her favourite blue headband but the rest of her hair is stuffed into her hoodie and she doesn't look as nice as Hans.
There had been a brief moment where the question of 'what are you wearing?' danced on her tongue when he picked her up, because she could never imagine him in anything other than his office attire but here he was. Well, he was still dressed in a very Hans-way – with the sleeves of his button up rolled up his elbows. But it was just so casual and she could see a black shirt peeking from under his button up because the first two buttons were left undone, he's wearing jeans and … sandals? Like … Elsa just had a sense that these two worlds should not align. Unless those sandals were Gucci. He's supposed to be made of money, isn't he? With all his retail therapy and –
"Oh fuck!" Hans exclaims, rising from the bench. Somewhere along the way, he had let go of Elsa's shoulder and she had decided to shake the sand off her feet.
"What? Did you forget something in the car?" Elsa asks, not taking the hint and easing into the seat.
"Elsa, wait, nonono don't –!" He went to grab her arm but it was too late.
"What?" Elsa asks but her question is immediately answered when she sat down – the stone bench felt like it was a barbeque grill. "Oh my God –!" She jumps up too and her ice-cream drops forward at her motion and into the sand.
They both stare and look down at her Mickey Mouse theme slippers, one in disappointment and the other with a blank face. Elsa sighs. She guesses the day was shitty from the start. What a load of – God, could this day get worse? Will a seagull come and attack her next?
"Do you want me to buy you a new one?" Came Hans question. Unexpected but also not really.
"No." Elsa says, sounding beyond irritated at her luck. Not everything can be bought over or paid back with money. But then she remembers to add some politeness to her speech and adds hurriedly, "No, thank you."
"You can have mine." He offers then. Though, it sounds more automatic now that Elsa knows some part of Hans.
"I ..." Her blue eyes drag itself to his untouched ice-cream, melting in its cup. It's ... She has been eating his food for arguably a month now but ... "I'd rather not." She says, not looking at his eyes or his handsome, freckled face.
Something shifts, he looked almost offended, "I haven't touched it." He replies.
"I know." Elsa answers then a crease existed between her brows. She knows he would never eat his ice-cream, he hates sweet things.
"Do you?" He challenges. Why does this sound like an argument? Why is he an ass one minute then a probable gentleman the next? What is this?
"Yes." She sounds defensive as she says this, staring at his offer.
Wordlessly, the damn thing remained in his hand, all melted and wasting away until Hans puts it aside. Elsa watches him shrug off his (expensive) button up before placing it on the bench. He sat on it without much thought then gestured for her to do the same.
(See? A sort of gentleman act!)
But Elsa doesn't move. She remained standing with her arms now crossed, bag pressed under her armpit, staring down at him quizzically. "I don't understand."
"Understand what? It's just a shirt."
She says, still referring to the previous conversation, "No, I mean … Why you do what you do. You already knew you don't like these things yet you put up with it." Elsa's mostly referring the frozen dessert but maybe she means more. Because, truly, she just doesn't understand him all that well.
His green eyes meet hers before he gestures to the spot beside him again.
Elsa swallows, sets down her bag then sits at the very edge and prepares herself to say more. "It's not that I'm not ... grateful –" Is that even the right word? "– for your ... hospitality –" Again, that sounded wrong. "– but I, I can't take things you don't want. I'm not ..."
I'm not some scrap taker or trash collector, I can't pick up things you want to throw out. I'm not a person you go to get broken things thrown away. Elsa finishes in her head.
"I have standards, Hans."
His face puckers. "I never said that you didn't. But, okay, I get it, you think it's strange." He dismisses.
There should have been a silence that followed after that, with only the sound of the crashing waves and seagulls squawking, but Elsa doesn't let it. For some reason, there's this pulling feeling in her chest. Like a jumpstart and she wants to settle it.
"N – No."
"No?"
"No. I don't think it's strange." Elsa states, hands planted on her lap. The sun is burning her thighs. Maybe she shouldn't have worn shorts? "It's a waste, sure, but, just so you know – I know. You told me you don't like sweet things."
This time, there is a silence that follows … and amusement filling his face once more.
"I did tell you that, didn't I?" Hans asks,
Pausing, Elsa tries to put things together. The blonde thinks she can read his emotions better now (well, somewhat) but she's not there yet. Murmuring softly to the ground, at her fallen treat, she says, "Yeah, you did."
"And you remembered?" Hans continues, still sounding surprised.
What's that supposed to mean?
Opening her mouth, Elsa says, "W – Why wouldn't I?" But the second those words left her mouth, she felt like kicking herself. It feels like she's showing off, telling him things about himself. Today has been more than a little off. "I mean, unless … is that …" Pushing back blonde hair, Elsa tries to smother this new atmosphere. She wished the wind would stop threatening to turn her hair into a disaster. "… not something you want?"
"I …" Hans pauses too. "I'm not used to it," Hans hums.
"You're not used to people listening to you?" She questions. It's always with the questions. He nods and she found it odd. Elsa sucks in a breath, "But, you're …" … so charismatic. "… one of the bosses."
"I suppose so." He laces his hands together, places his elbows on his knees and leans down on his knuckles. His perfect, straight posture is broken. "But, I'm also a person."
Right …
"Want to hear a fun story?" Hans chuckles – chuckles – then corrects himself. "Actually, it's not fun. Maybe a little funny but … you know how we Scandinavians have an absurd amount of birthday songs?"
"You know that I'm Norwegian?"
"I told you I read your resume, didn't I, Elsa? It's impressive that you know five languages –"
"O – Oh, thank you."
"– I only know four." Of course, the conversation would circle around to stroke his ego. "Anyway, back home, um, in Denmark, I mean," Hans licks his lips and Elsa thinks this is the first time he's talked so fondly about home. "there's three versions of the 'happy birthday' song. And usually, as a kid, the best part – besides the presents and cake – is getting to choose which version you want to be sung at you and which instrument to accompany the song with and all that jazz. Well," Hans laughs again. "my brothers never let me have that. It would be a complete disaster, just a mash of all three versions with all the instruments. It was always off-key and horrible."
Where is he going with this story? Is this related to her question? Because, this isn't funny.
Clearing his throat, Hans speaks up, "Actually, I think I started hating cake because of all those failed birthdays. And … it might have spiralled after that. I think … that's why I hate sweet things."
Wait – huh?
That's really shitty. And it's sad that it explains a lot. She can't believe he just told her all these things. Elsa really doesn't expect him to but … "What about Lars? Or your mother? Didn't anyone try to handle your brothers?" Elsa found herself asking.
A flash of emotion appeared on Hans' face. Something that looked like it wanted to ask 'you remembered?' again before it disappeared. "My mother had her hands full and Lars … was also a dick back then. Not that I blame him. I was too. Everyone was … bad. But, at least, Lars grew up, but the others …" Hans shook his head slowly, not finishing his sentence.
Elsa chews on the bottom of her lip. Now she feels bad.
"So, um, to answer your question," Hans blinks, thinking. "Yeah, I thought 'hey, let's try some ice-cream'. I mean, why not? The sun is blazing today and I," I don't know? "I thought I could give it a second go. I thought, maybe I'd like it again."
Something grabs a hold of Elsa, filling her with curiosity. Was Hans always this talkative? This open?
"Did you? Do you?" She couldn't help but ask.
Lifting his chin from his laced hands and straightening his posture, muscles stretching under his shirt. Hans lets once more chuckle escape from his lips before he admits, "No." It rolls off his tongue so easily. "God no. I still hate it. Second chances don't exist."
Wow, there he goes again. Just ruin the moment, why don't you? Wait –
"You said you didn't touch it. If you didn't try it then how –"
"So, I licked the spoon and there's this thing called 'lying',"
She will strangle him. She swears she will. Elsa will channel everything in her to –
"I threw the spoon afterwards so if you had decided to eat it, it would have been really awkward and super funny to see you eat it." Hans snorts. He's so cruel. Who does that? "I promise I'll send you home soon, I see you're starting to get irritated. But, be honest with me." Hans says suddenly. "if you weren't spending today with me, what would you be doing?
Shifting in her seat, with Hans shirt under her weight, Elsa almost wants to rewind time. Back to when it wasn't just them, back to where there was Anna and her friends, and lunch that Hans says he's paying for.
"Reading." Elsa answers because she's not all that ready to say 'drawing'.
"Reading?" He echoes like it's a laughable matter.
Sounding frustrated, Elsa grabs her bag and pulls out a thick book. Not to whack him with, mind you. But wouldn't that be grand? She almost sasses out 'Yeah, ever heard of it?' but bites her tongue instead.
"Here. Do you want to give it a go too? Borrow it or something?"
Then he stares at her. Stares for the longest time because she knows he's made of money and he doesn't have to borrow anything. He could just buy it and never read it if he wanted to.
"You could. But you have to take care of it. I really like this book." Elsa continues and the trust in her voice just baffled him.
As a breeze picks itself up again, sending sand everywhere, he asks back. "Have you finished reading it?"
"No."
"Then how do you know you really like it?" He doesn't understand her words and yet they talk like there's something to say.
"I just do." Elsa answers and suddenly, it just made sense. "So do you want to borrow it or not?"
His eyes flutter to look at the cover of the book briefly before his gaze turns back to the sea. "I've read it." Hans replies shortly.
"You have?"
He gives her a curt nod then starts ticking his fingers. "Four – No, five years ago. The Summer I was eighteen, I think. I haven't picked up a book since."
'Since'? That's a long time. But, Elsa's not that surprise a man like Hans would do just such a thing. Not when he's constantly glued to his phone and visiting pretty places.
"Well, a good book, that is." Hans corrects himself. "I had to do a lot of reading for my studies. I think I burned myself out getting my degree, haven't enjoyed reading since."
"Ah." Elsa says and understands. She did pick accounting and business as a joint degree when she really wanted to pursue an art degree. Sometimes she feels like giving up – reading something you don't want to read, especially when you know you won't like it, can be such a chore. "Why don't you give it another try then?" She asks when what she really wants to do is insist.
Hans asks back, quirking a brow, "What? Reading novel books?" For fun?
"Yes."
"I'll pass –"
"You just said it was a good book."
The argument in his mouth drops off and his green eyes soften. "I did, didn't I?" He murmurs. He's been asking a lot of questions lately. Answering them too. "It does hold a special place in my heart."
'You have a heart?' Elsa wants to ask but simply nudges the book towards his hands.
He hesitates at first, then touches it gently. "Thank you." Hans says.
And Elsa pretends not to notice the new shift; something that's more than just arguments and ambiguity and questions that goes round and round.
"Can I go home now?" She asks politely.
He smirks, lips twisting into that familiar grin and he rises from the bench. "You're really an introvert, aren't you?"
"I ..." Elsa shrugs, getting up too. "I just want to be at home. With my sister."
His yanks to gaze at her for what seemed like forever, pulling his button up his arm, then asks, "Anna, right?"
Elsa nods. "Anna."
"What is she to you?"
'What do you mean?' Elsa wants to ask but then thinks over her words. "She ... Anna's like what Lars and your mother are to you." Elsa says slowly, fiddling with her hands.
Hans' face morphs into something unreadable.
"Anna's my favourite person." Elsa says, stepping forward, bag now lighter.
"Ah," Is all he tells her. His grip around her book tightens.
;;
Driving with Anna, Elsa realises (or chooses to forget), is not as smooth as a normal car ride. It's rocky and full of hesitation. There are times where Elsa lurches forward and even holds back the need to grab onto something to steady herself. It wasn't scary, per se. Elsa's anxiety is a weird thing, linked more towards new people and crowds and uncertainty. But, with Anna, it was familiar. Even if it was a little bit reckless.
"Is that light turning red or green?" Anna asks, turquoise eyes squinting behind her sunglasses.
"Um –"
"Never mind, it's green!" Anna says and presses her gas peddles. "Oh, I feel like I shouldn't be in this lane. Should I?"
"Anna – " Elsa bits her lower lip. This isn't the most spontaneous thing she's done; deciding to go out with Anna to get three things from the grocery store. But it's certainly a little unplanned.
"Should we maybe fill up my gas task? If I do that then maybe we could stop by that little shop to grab some lunch or – oh! We should get McDonald's on the way back!"
"Anna –"
"No, no, you're right. We shouldn't. Gerda's probably making food as we speak! Don't get distracted, Anna, don't. Just get groceries then go home." Anna says, now speaking to herself.
Elsa sighs, a slow smile spreading at her sister's nature.
"So what did you do this morning? I woke up around noon and Gerda told me you went out. I didn't know how long you would be out, and I couldn't wait, so I watched Dumplin' without you! I'm so sorry about that, but lemme tell you, it was great! Two hours well spent! I'm totally up for watching it again – We should watch it tonight!" Anna's cheery words hangs in the air between the two.
And despite the intensity of things – the irritating glare of the Summer sun, Marina and the Diamonds singing on the radio, Anna's mad driving – Elsa felt somewhat serene in the beat-up car with her sister.
Elsa smiles, "It's okay, Anna, I understand. Something …" More like someone. "… just came up."
"Ah, what was it? Was it good? Bad?" Anna starts firing questioning.
"Well, Hans picked me up."
Anna pushes her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. "Uh-huh, so work stuff?"
".. No."
"Weird lunch hangouts?"
"Not exactly."
"Then …?"
"He … He's been ..." Elsa swallows, wishing she had sunglasses to shield her eyes like Anna. "… telling me things?"
"More fashion tips?" Anna raises a strawberry blonde eyebrow. "Ugh! Can he shut up about that? All that talk about your hair and clothes and nails – don't think I haven't forgotten, by the way – because I haven't! I notice things too, you know! Like, I've noticed that you haven't repainted that red coat, it's chipping away so I guess you don't really care about what he thinks. Do you? Wait, don't answer that. Of course, you don't! But, anyway, I think you're fine the way you are, Elsa!" At this, Elsa smiles more. Leave it to her baby sister, her favourite person in the whole world, to make her smile like that. "I mean, know everyone needs to grow, I'm sure you want to get better –" And for a moment, Elsa thinks of her anxiety and depression. "– as a person, but forcing change is ridiculous! Tell me you didn't listen to his dumb advice!"
"I ... I try?" Elsa answers, hands balling.
"Elsa! I, no pressure but maybe try to shut him out? If not, um, maybe we could find a way?"
"Like what?" The platinum blonde asks. Saying 'no'? Because she's tried that.
"Erm, intimidation? Can you maybe get some muscle?" Anna answers.
"Are you suggesting we get Kristoff to –"
"No! No! Kristoff would never hurt a fly! I meant, someone else's boyfriend, Mulan's maybe?"
"Anna! We're not getting Shang into this –"
"I know there's no such thing as an eight-pack but he could be an exception –"
"We're not getting Shang to beat up Hans!" Elsa insists, cutting her sister off like how Anna had done to her. They're close but they don't exactly have a meeting of minds sort of relationship. They're sisters, not carbon copies.
"Okay, then, what if I punch him instead?"
"No!"
"He'll never know –"
"He's seen your face! He knows you! Remember?" Elsa closes her eyes. She's getting a little car sick. "Hans doesn't – He isn't – He's not forcing me to sell my soul for nice Prada shoes or whatever, he's just –! He's just telling me things about himself. Like the one brother he likes and his mother and – " His room "– uh the sea?" Elsa still remembers the seashells tucked in the pockets of her shorts. "I, I don't know?"
"Oh! Oooh!" Anna chimes. If her freckled hands weren't gripping onto the steering wheel, Elsa was sure Anna would have used them to slap her forehead."Elsa, I completely misunderstood! Then that's not really anything annoying. He's just telling you stuff!"
Pale brows knit together. Elsa echoes, "Stuff?"
"Yeah, stuff." Anna nods. "Bonding, you know? I still stand by that he's a jerk after everything you've told me – even though I do think he has dreamy eyes, but, you know I – Is that a pink car or is that just the sun in my eyes?"
"That's a pink car." Elsa confirms, blue eyes watching the cute thing zoom away.
"Oh, imagine if Lottie was behind the wheel, wouldn't that have been a hilarious coincidence and – Wait, what was I talking about again?"
"You misunderstanding Hans?" Elsa replies.
"Oh, right!" Anna smiles. "He's just trying to get to know you because he has no friends ... maybe? Mulan told you to give him a chance, right?"
Elsa's eyebrows scrunch together. "She also told me to be careful."
"Mulan is very in the middle of things, isn't she?"
"She doesn't like picking sides. She dislikes anything conflicting."
"Ah, well, there's gotta be a peacemaker in your circle of friends. I know Punzie is when Ariel and I get into heated debates, like the other day about free will –"
"So Hans?" Elsa cuts in before they reach their destination and forget all about the current topic.
"Hmm? Oh, yes! So I was about to say, he's just trying to get to know you. It's normal. You just don't feel comfortable because he's a guy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means what it means, you're shy, Elsa." Anna says and Elsa thinks, no, she's worse. But Anna talking over her thoughts help her bring herself out of it. Anna asks, "Remember that one time when Kristoff got drunk and got a cab to our house?"
"Yes?"
"I remember telling you to watch him while I went to fetch him some water. Then he started talking to you and you told me 'wow, Anna, Kristoff sure is talkative when he's drunk!' then I was like 'what are you on about? He always talks this amount'–" Anna says and Elsa doesn't know how Anna can do this; multitask well. Usually, it's overwhelming for Elsa. "– and it turns out you just didn't know it because you don't talk to Kristoff as much."
Elsa asks Anna, "Your point being?"
"You're not used to it, talking to guys, that is."
The car lurching forward the grocery parking lot and Anna's quick throw of 'sorry!' hides the blush crawling up Elsa's cheeks.
"Look, Elsa, I'm not saying you're obligated to tell your boss things about yourself just because he tells you stuff. I also don't think you should let the rumours about him get to you, despite most of them being true, but he's opening up to you in some way." Some confusing way.
Elsa's eyes sweep over the large area. "I … I guess?"
"Right? But, I don't think you should over-think it." Anna advised, backing up into a parking spot. "Your internship expires soon, yeah? You have … what, less than a month left at the company?" Anna talks the entire time she parks. "So just, let him talk to you. Who knows? He might be really helpful in the future! Like polishing up your resume or offering a place at The Southern Isles after you graduate."
Uhh … "I'd rather not." What's she going to learn from him anyway?
"Understandable." Anna chimes. "He's a jerk face. Or, he could maybe offer a spot at another place? Can that happen? Is that how the business world works?"
Elsa doesn't answer, not knowing the answer too and Anna shrugs, unbuckling her seatbelt, then fumbling for her purse. Elsa takes this as a sign to get out of the car and start talking about something else until –
"So, here's the thing, I forgot my wallet."
;;
The memory of Elsa staring at her feet burns into the back of Hans' mind. It's clear and crisp, like Autumn air. And Hans can't help but look down at Elsa's copy of The Book Thief, the very thing he denied, yet it's in his hands. Like a sudden strike of inspiration, Hans starts remembering why he liked the book, the origin behind it, his favourite character that never did quite make it. Such a pity, he was such a nice man. Too good for the world, unlike him.
;;
Notes 4: Vroom, vroom bitch part 2. Bonus points to anyone who can guess who's Hans fav character is.
Notes 5: I won't be updating for a bit because I'm trying to figure out the plot as I said in the last update. Also because it's close to Christmas and I deserve a break, law school is killing me, I need to catch up on my notes.
If you can't get enough of Hans like me and want to listen to Hans' voice actor sing outside of Frozen, then I highly recommend going on YouTube and listening to soundtracks from Crazy Ex-girlfriend and Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella musical where Santino Fontana plays Prince Topher (Charming). Honestly, Hans is the perfect blend of I-believe-in-true-love Prince Topher and I-hate-myself-but-settle-with-me Greg which is why I find Hans as a character hilarious!
Also, I highly recommend reading from these authors while you wait for me to finish watching Crazy Ex-girlfriend – secretcastle, Calenheniel, yumi michiyo, najadi, BookishDruid, and, of course, gustin puckerman.
– 19 December 2018
