all'y'all comments and reviews make me feel great btw. this story is (hopefully) back on track with its thursday updates – at least for the time being. I have a lot coming up with school (first assignment is due next friday OTL ) but i'll try and remain consistent :)
The drive to Fredrikstad isn't that bad. It's not too hot or cold, and the view is beautiful. There's so much green... and it actually looks pretty amazing.
That being said, by the time you get to your hotel you're really in need of a shower. It feels like the recirculated flight air is still sticking to you. You also want to send Kristoff a quick message because he's probably worrying and you wanna let him know you arrived safely.
"We won't be starting work until tomorrow," Elsa says as you follow her through the foyer, driver walking a few steps behind with your bags. The hotel seems a bit dated, but it looks clean and the staff are all smiling. "If you want to have a nap, feel free."
Wow. Now that she's suggested it, you are kinda sleepy. Maybe you should have slept more on the flight...
"What are you going to do?" you ask, just as you get to the front desk. Elsa doesn't answer for a moment – she's gotta collect room keys and stuff, you suppose – but when she does, she's got the same impish expression she had when she mentioned IKEA.
"You're not the only one who got some cheap grog," she says, and you almost feel like blushing, though you're not sure why. Gosh, does anyone over the age of 20 still even call it that? "I'm going to have a bath and a drink, and then perhaps find a good place for dinner. Do you have any preferences?"
Dumbly, you shake your head. Jesus, is this a work trip or a holiday?
You're saved the embarrassment of asking that stupid question when the receptionist moves out from behind the desk. He says something in Norwegian, and Elsa nods.
"He will show us to our rooms."
You're led out of the foyer and down a glamorous hallway. It looks really posh, but you're still kinda grateful when he bypasses the lifts. You're not sure you trust the electronics in a place this old. You stop outside an elaborate door, and with a swipe of a keycard, it unlocks.
It's a nice room. Not overly spacious, but hell, it's the fanciest hotel you've ever been in, so you're not going to complain. On your immediate right, there's a small kitchen, with a dishwasher and oven and everything! Even a regular sized fridge! Directly in front of you is the 'living room' – a small couch and TV, plus a coffee table – and to your left you can see a bedroom. The bathroom must be through there, too. The driver, who's followed you this whole way, bless, arranges your bags neatly by the couch.
"Wow, this is great," you say. "I wonder what yours looks like, Els."
You turn to her, and she gives a brief smile. "Likely the same as yours," she responds. "There's nothing stopping you from having a look."
A soft cough gets your attention, and you look to the receptionist, confused. Elsa's got a similar expression on her face.
"Apologies, madams," he says, "But we cannot permit Miss Ackerman into the elevator. Health and safety – I'm sure you understand, Ms Arendelle."
Elsa evidently does not understand, judging by the narrowing of her eyes and her following words. "I'm not sure I do," she says. "We booked two rooms directly next to each other for ease of access. Why would I need to take the lift while Anna does not?"
The driver's completely vanished and you feel your heart sinking, following the way your head dips.
"That's correct, ma'm," the receptionist says. "You booked two deluxe suits; however, one other stipulation was the requirement for a disabled-access room. Unfortunately, the only disabled rooms we have are on the ground floor. Surely your booking manager told you this?"
You hear a sharp exhale. "No, they didn't."
There's silence for a few seconds, and you can feel Elsa's eyes on you. You don't want her to do anything silly, and you're really desperate for a shower now, so you decide that now is the time to pipe up.
"It's fine, Elsa." You lift your head to look at her, smiling a little bit. "Don't worry. We can still reach each other through the internal phones, right?" The receptionist nods. "There. It's all fine." You almost feel like adding on an, I don't need a babysitter, but that wouldn't help anyone, and chances are Elsa had only wanted close rooms for functional reasons, not to watch over you.
She obviously looks uncomfortable, but you don't have to argue your point again for her to acquiesce. "Okay," she says. And then smiles. "Okay. I will leave you to get settled in. I'll be back in a few hours."
She still doesn't seem happy once the door has close behind her, and you're not exactly sure why.
Not that it matters at the moment – you can ask her later. Right now, there's a shower with your name on it.