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Sins of the Past
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Chapter Ten
I absentmindedly gave my empty can of Coke a shake, pivoting my chin from where it rested on my palm to observe the others enjoying themselves as the party raged on.
Rapunzel's boyfriend, a guy named Eugene, had arrived not too long ago to whisk the girl off her feet and lead her to the dance floor, which the two were now currently dominating together. Likewise, Olaf's gigantic hulking brother, who was called Marshmellow funnily enough, had also just recently arrived to challenge the remaining two guys to a drinking contest. The three of them were now seated by the bar, chugging a ludicrous amount of beer.
I think Kristoff's winning, judging by his colossal pyramid of empty cans. Olaf's already hit his limit, though considering his small physical size I'm not altogether too surprised. I'd say he did pretty well, not that I speak from experience or anything.
And Elsa..?
The ghost was nowhere to be seen, though I figure that she's probably just buried somewhere in the crowd. She's more or less the main reason why I haven't just up and left already, since I'm not heartless enough to rob her of the opportunity to explore modern life.
So here I am, alone and bored out of my mind. My phone battery had died a while ago.
I was about to get up and grab myself another can of Coke, maybe join the guys at the bar when I an obnoxiously sweet voice spoke from my left.
"Hey there, sweetcheeks."
Hans, of course.
"Willy-Nilly, was it?" I offhandedly asked, staring intently at the empty can in my hand. "There something you want from me?"
Hans laughed.
"Well, yes, actually." He said, after a pause. "I don't think we got off to a very good start, and I'd like to fix that."
Wait what.
He's not serious is he?
I shifted my view to find him setting down a champagne glass onto the table as a peace offering of sorts. I shook my head.
"Sorry. I don't drink alcohol." I gave my empty soda can another shake for emphasis.
A look of surprise flashed over Hans' face, which was replaced in an instant by a forced smile.
He waved dismissively.
"Oh, that's fine. It's actually ginger ale. What say you drink up and we'll hit the dance floor together?"
I eyed him suspiciously.
"I don't accept unsealed drinks from strangers. Please leave me alone, Hans. Maybe some other time."
Hans ran a hand through his hair, and I could see the faint traces of frustration dot his face.
"No, really. I must insist." He pleaded. "Please Anna, you're killing me here. Can't you find it in your heart to give me another chance right now?"
The way that Hans is speaking right now is seriously rubbing me the wrong way, his attempt at guilt tripping me notwithstanding. His stubborn insistence that I accept his drink is also setting off my internal alarm bells.
I took a metaphorical shot in the dark, gambling that there's something in this glass that shouldn't.
"I said no, Hans. Besides, there's obviously a little more than just 'ginger ale' in this cup."
The redhead's eyes widened as he spluttered in disbelief, which all but confirmed my suspicions as far as I cared. I pressed on before he could reply, staring him dead in the eyes.
"Are you really trying to drug me, Hans?"
He discreetly reached for the glass, but I slid it away, keeping it out of reach.
"I wonder what'll happen if campus security sees this?"
Hans' expression grew dark at these words, revealing his true colours. He suddenly lunged forward and snatched the glass out of my hands, downing it all in one large gulp before tossing the cup aside.
I then watched in confusion as he slunk away, loudly cursing at everything and anyone that got in his way.
"Golly, what was that all about?" Asked a wispy, feminine, and very recognizable voice from above and behind. I whirled around to find Elsa mock dangling off one of the hanging lights illuminating the club.
I sighed.
"Can't say that I know, honestly, but my guess is that he was trying to get me to drink a drugged glass, which probably would've lead into terrible things happening to me if I'd accepted."
Elsa made an O with her mouth.
"Was that what he was trying to do? I had seen him earlier serendipitously pour the contents of a small flask into that very cup, but had thought nothing more of it. I had thought the action to be akin to bringing a pepper grinder into a restaurant."
I shook my head, chuckling slightly at the ridiculousness of smuggling pepper into a restaurant. "I guess these predators of these kind weren't all that common back in your time."
The ghost shook her head. "Unheard of, in fact." She then burst into laughter. "Though the same could be said for almost everything else in this facility!"
I laughed as well, thankful somewhat for the change in subject. "I can't even imagine the culture shock you must going through right now. How're you coping?"
Elsa laughed as well. "Quite well, I'd say! Allow me to demonstrate?"
"...Demonstrate?" I repeated, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"
Elsa gestured to the dance floor.
"May I have this dance?"
It turns out that Elsa is a pretty good dancer.
She'd apparently spent most of the past hour observing from the sidelines, and managed to pick up enough cues such that her mimicry was on point. I was really impressed. She has a really captivating pair of hips! I could get lost watching them sway from side to side...
On a side note, I finally learned that Elsa does in fact have feet. Elsa had laughed herself silly when I finally mustered the courage to ask, but it turns out that they really were just extremely well obscured by her dress and ambient glow.
It wasn't long though before I needed a break, considering how out of shape I was. The myriad of sweaty bodies rubbing up against me certainly didn't help any.
I stumbled outside onto an empty wooden patio, before collapsing onto a conveniently placed deck chair.
The air was refreshingly cold out here.
Elsa made her way to my side, floating above me such that I could see her as I reclined back into my seat.
"Well, Anna. Did you find that enjoyable?"
I whistled softly.
"It was incredible. I'm actually really surprised by how fast you picked up the moves, to be honest. Were you much of a dancer back in your time, Elsa?"
Elsa sighed wistfully.
"I was indeed. Dancing was a great passion of mine in fact, and I suppose my ability to adapt to your modern styles today could be because of the fact that the dances of my time had placed an emphasis on improvisation."
Interesting.
"What did you old geezers consider as dancing in the 30s anyway?" I playfully asked.
"Very funny." deadpanned Elsa, before going on to explain. "My memory eludes me in regards to the specifics of the dance itself, but I do recall the name of one of the many dances I've danced as being the Lindy Hop."
I cocked my head in confusion.
"The what-a-what? Never heard of it before." I perked up in my seat, pouncing on the opportunity to see Elsa in action again. "What was it like? Could you show me?"
The apparition shook her head solemnly.
"I wholeheartedly would, but alas cannot as I simply do not satisfy the dance's physical requirements, seeing how I lack both the ability to be affected by gravity and a partner whom I can physically contact."
She lowered herself to the floor, and I could see her physically struggle to simulate walking. It looked as though she were trying to walk while underwater—the actions were there, but they weren't having the desired effect.
"Your modern dance styles do not necessarily require either, as you yourself demonstrated earlier, hence why I was able to adapt to them so readily."
I slumped back into my chair.
"Dang. That sucks."
I closed my eyes, resting them as I tuned out the ambient noise filtering its way out from inside the club.
It wasn't long until they flew back open as I realized something.
"Hey, wait. That means you've been robbed of the ability to dance for, what, over 80 years now? That's terrible! Didn't you say that you were passionate about dancing or something?" I spluttered in disbelief. "How did you—What did you even do to pass the time during all those long years then!?"
Elsa laughed. A small, sad laugh.
"You are correct. As for what I did to keep myself occupied? It is simple."
She turned away, staring off into the stars high above.
"I waited, counting the days until someone like you came by to rescue me."
I had this really dumb and haughty standard back when I wrote in 2014, during the time where all the big name stories were still in progress.
(Anna Summers PA, Cafe Liegeois, Love Lesson 9, and of course r9k come to mind)
I basically rated a story solely on its number of followers. If a story didn't have 10 followers per chapter, I wouldn't read it. Wouldn't even consider it. Didn't even look at the summary, as ridiculous as it sounds. I held myself to that standard too. I actually probably would've abandoned my old stories if they didn't get 10 per chapter either.
I can only imagine how much stupidity I'd be beating out of my past self if I had a chance to meet them.