Maybe Anna moves first this time. Maybe it's Elsa. All they know is that one moment, they're standing a full foot away from each other; the next, there's less than an inch.
It isn't a passionate kiss – they're both too tired for that. This is something else; gentle, and constrained.
Something quickly becoming familiar.
Nine months ago, Anna hadn't been ready for this. A family. Children or a partner as serious as this is. They definitely do need to talk about it, but there's never been a good time.
There still isn't.