"Elsa?" Kristoff asks gently. "I was up real late last night. You good working alone today?"
"Um?" Elsa glances over at Anna, "um."
"Goddamnit," Kristoff sighs. He kicks the espresso machine, and Elsa jumps. She looks swiftly down.
"I'm just worried," she says. "I… people don't seem to treat things like me like- well, like people. I don't want to be responsible for people refusing to pay, or vandalizing your shop?"
"You know, it makes it worse that you're making sense," Kristoff grumbles.
"Sorry," Elsa says automatically.
"I can do it," Anna volunteers. "I mean, Elsa can make the coffee, right? That's the part I don't know. I'll take the register?"
"Sure," Kristoff shrugs. "You're hired. Minimum wage. You'll be here every weekday after five- that'll give you time to finish your classes, right?"
"You're hiring me long term?" Anna squeaks.
"Yes," Kristoff says. "If you'll take it. I need someone to babysit Elsa… that came out wrong."
"It's fine," Elsa says quietly.
"Of course I'll take it," Anna replies. "I was just surprised is all. No one's ever hired me before. You want me to bring you a resume? I mean, it will be a kinda short resume, but…"
"Why the hell would I want your resume?" Kristoff asks. "You're already hired."
"Oh," Anna nods. "I guess. What does Elsa make?"
"About double," Kristoff grins maliciously.
"Double?" Anna stares intently at the dead girl. Elsa studiously refuses to return the look. "How's that fair?"
"She makes good coffee," Kristoff shrugs. He turns to leave, then adds, almost an afterthought, "by the way Anna, you'll have to clean the oven. Elsa doesn't go near it."
"Why not?" Anna asks.
"Don't," Elsa snaps. She turns to the espresso machine and starts brewing.
"That reminds me," Kristoff says. "She doesn't seem to eat or drink, but she likes coffee smells, and she likes the warmth, so I usually let her make coffee for herself whenever she wants. You can have a few free drinks too, I guess." He leaves.
"So," Anna says after a moment. "You like the warmth? Uh, warm things? You like warm things?" Elsa holds out her hand wordlessly. Anna hesitates a moment, then presses the back of her hand to Elsa's open palm. Elsa's pale, dead, flesh is cool and clammy, like raw meat left on the counter for a few hours. "Oh," Anna says. "Must be hard." Elsa shrugs. She sits- at the same table as before- and wraps her hands around her freshly brewed beverage.
Anna joins her at the table. "What is that?" She asks.
Wordlessly, Elsa slides the drink over. Anna takes a sip. "This is really good," she says.
"Thank you," Elsa replies.
"No," Anna says. "I mean, like really really good. Like, you could work anywhere you want. That kind of good. Why here?"
"People- things- like me have to work three times as hard for half the pay," Elsa says. "And lesbian litches have to work nine times as hard as that." Elsa doesn't sound bitter.
"I didn't know you were…" Anna giggles.
"Is that a problem?" Elsa leans forward. The lights flicker and dim. "Sorry," she flinches. The lights come back on.
"No!" Anna hastens to assure her. "Not a problem. Um." She toys nervously with her hair. "So, the lights?"
"Magic," Elsa says. "Sorry. It gets away from me sometimes."
"So it's true then?" Anna asks. "Litches are witches?" She looks terribly proud of herself.
Elsa sighs theatrically. "Did you think undeath was natural?" She asks.
"Well, no," Anna says. "But…" she's cut off by the door chime. Elsa stands and moves to the counter. She rejoins Anna at the little table once she has resolved the order, but she makes no move to restart the conversation.
"So," Anna says. "Um?"
"Um?" Elsa looks up. There's a shadow of grim resolve in her clear eyes.
"Yeah," Anna sipps from the cup Elsa had left. "Sorry," she chokes out. "I forgot that was yours." Elsa shrugs, so she goes back to her original line of questioning. "So, how exactly does one become a litch? None of the press releases are terribly clear on that."
"A certain, very old, magical ritual," Elsa doesn't meet her eyes. "There are many things that go into it, but the important thing is it requires a sacrifice."
"A sacrifice?" Anna snorts. "Really? Like what? A lamb or something?"
"Not exactly," Elsa frowns. "I don't want to talk about this."
"Alright," Anna holds up her hands in mock surrender. "Um. Next question. Those numbers on your arm?"
"No," Elsa stands abruptly and vanishes into the back.
"Sorry," Anna calls out. She buries her head in her arms and wonders how she keeps fucking up. More importantly, she wonders how she can stop.
AN: Sorry this chapter is so short. It was going to be longer, but that seemed like a good place to end it. Sorry also that I have been updating (all of my stories) so slowly. I've been working on a thing, which I am considering putting up on amazon *or something* nebulous plans to become filthy rich... somehow... anyway. So that's been all of my time. Sorry. You probably don't care. I would say that it doesn't bother me that you don't care, and that I'm going to talk about it for another few paragraphs regardless of whether you want me to or not, and that there is nothing you can do that could stop me, but the fact of the matter is that you totally can leave whenever you feel like. Please don't? I need my readers... Love me please...
I'm in a weird mood and should probably stop before I scare away any more of you. Better yet, I should have the good sense to delete this entire AN and start over, but let's be honest with each other- I'm just not going to do that. *scampers back into my hole*