chapter word count: 457

noir heart: thirty-three

He realises too late that he's just given her an opening, and a quick glance towards her relaxed form confirms it; her eyes remain unwaveringly fixed upon him, but there's a frown of satisfied intrigue dancing upon her elegantly sculpted countenance.

So he tries to deflect her – again.

"Well, there's good old fashioned revenge." he challenges, moving over to the other side of the sofa in order to lean his butt against it.

She rolls her eyes with a playful smile. "How cliché."

"Still a valid reason." He persists, causing an instance where she looks off to the side.

"I suppose it is – but if I was to seek revenge against my late husband, it would appear that the Ashley Madison Ripper has…" she pauses to flick her eyes back to his and arrest him once more, "…beaten me to the punch, as it were."

He watches closely as, ever the oasis of calm, Elsa utters a satisfied hum and turns her attention to her mug. She seems so sure of herself, so controlled and in her element, especially in the way her eyes flick over to the second mug on the side of the table closest to him.

There's a beat of silence where his gaze darts from her patiently waiting orbs of icy blue to the owner-less mug and back, feeling a small ball of suspicion settle itself in his gut. It could be tea with bleach, coffee with anti-freeze or hot chocolate with cyanide.

Annoyingly, she seems to sense his thoughts on the matter – not that they could be any more obvious in the way he warily eyes the mug – and wryly chuckles over the rim of her drink. "You needn't worry, Jack. It's just black coffee."

"How do I know that?"

"You don't," Elsa smirks, "you will just have to trust me. Although…I don't think you trust anyone."

"You don't know anything about me." Jack can't help but growl, feeling his fists involuntarily clench in his pocket.

"No…" she concedes with an air of reluctance as she languidly moves the mug away from her lips and delicately places it upon the table. "But I would like to."

Her brazen and straightforward statement stills Jack's lungs with complete incomprehension, and as though sensing the advantage she uncrosses her slender legs, rises to her feet with the elegance of an unfurling flower, and languidly walks towards him. Stiffening to his full height, Jack tenses rigidly as Elsa invades his personal space just close enough for him to hear her breathe, and regards him with interested, attentive – arresting – eyes.

"Tell me, Jack. Did you leave your wife, or did she leave you?"

last ready-made update. Will try typing a drabble on my phone, but the keypad is incredibly impractical.

special thanks to lunasnoir, jpbake, stefalove, oninoko, fantasy oh yea and e-teens for reviewing the last chapter!