Chapter Two:

Shutting the door to the pizzeria behind me, I beamed at the people waiting in the shop for me. Marshal grinned right back, giving a small wave as soon as his hands were free of the dough he had been tossing around. "I thought you said an hour and a half." He rumbled, smirking.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "I said I would if I could. I'm here, and that's what counts, right?"

He laughed, and a head full of white hair peeked around the corner that led to the kitchen. "Elsa? Is that you?" He asked cautiously, looking me up and down. "You haven't become a zombie, have you?"

There are three things one should know about Olaf. First, he's quite clumsy everywhere but the pizzeria – as odd as that is. Second, he believes in zombies and how they're going to take over the world. I honestly think he just spent way too much time playing Left4Dead at a young age, and it rubbed off on him permanently. Third…

I sighed, though I was still smiling. "No, Olaf, I'm not a zombie. I don't think they even have the thought to work out how to open a door. They'd probably just try and beat it down with their heads."

The younger boy took a moment consider my words before a great, big smile split across his face. He rushed towards me, wrapping his arms around my waist in a tight, warm embrace. "I missed you! I honestly thought the zombies might've gotten ahold of you!"

That would be three. He loved warm hugs.

I laughed, ruffling his hair. "I see. But, you don't have worry about me. You know I could take on any old zombie any day of the week. Except in the mornings. I'd be too groggy to even try and fight back. I'm only a morning person after I've inhaled either a cup of tea or hot chocolate."

"Noted!" He chortled, escaping back into the kitchen. "But, you should probably work on that. One certainly would hate it if a certain blonde got her brains eaten out by the undead. I'd much rather shout 'I told you so!' in your face."

I rolled my eyes once more. "Jeesh, how do you put up with that both day and night, Marshmallow man? I can barely stand five minutes of his zombie ravings!"

It wasn't true. I just liked tormenting the little guy – just a enough to get a reaction. Besides, his antics rubbed off on me a long time ago. After all, I kept about five different melee weapons hidden around my house and work out about every other day because of his ramblings. When the weapons would fail me in my battle against the undead, I would need the stamina to run away and scale a building.

"Hey! I heard that!" Came the somewhat faded cry of protest. From the sounds of it, Olaf was digging around in the pantry for more ingredients.

Marshal gave a rumbling laugh, shrugging. "We're brothers, Elsa. We have to put up with each other."

I shrugged, pulling my black beanie down further onto my head. "I wouldn't know, after all, my mom and da kind of died before my little sister could be born…"

Silence enveloped the room, save the rummaging and cursing from Olaf. It was one of those not-quite uncomfortable yet not-quite comfortable silences. The kind that could turn either way if left unattended too long…

Thankfully, the door opened – accompanied by a rather rambunctious Scotswoman's voice. "Oy! Guess who's 'ere boys an' lass!"

An arm slung itself around my neck, and I grinned, glancing over at my also-beaming friend. "I don't know – is it Esmerelda perhaps? Or maybe even Ariel? You do have her hair… only a tad… What's the word? Frizzier."

Merida wrinkled her nose in distaste, shaking her head. "Guess again, Els." The girl stated, using the nickname only my closest of friends could call me. Well, all my closest friends except Marshal and Meg. Marshal preferred 'Elsa' to 'Els', and Meg called me 'Ice Queen'.

Honestly, I think it was because it was a nickname I gained when I gave everyone the 'cold shoulder' for the first three months of college. I was the antisocial, well, Ice Queen that ignored everyone and almost everything except the teacher and my notes.

But, just look at me now! I'm still a little uncomfortable – meaning extremely shy – around strangers, but, once you get to know me, I tend to be a tad weird. Then again, isn't everyone?

I giggled, pulling the redhead into a hug. "It's nice to see you again, Merida. How's the family?"

"The usual." The Scot sighed. "Mum's still a pain in the rear but scares the hell outa ever'one. Brothers are still makin' trouble. An' meh da's still loud as ever."

I shrugged. "Family. You put up with them, you fight them, but you still love one another to death in the end."

The redhead laughed heartily, still grinning from ear-to-ear. "Tell me 'bout it!"

Pulling back from my friend, I turned back to Marshal. "Anyway, back onto track, have you gotten any calls in yet? Or need I actually help out with the cooking as we wait? I mean, I can make a decent pizza, but not nearly as well as you or Olaf, but still–"

I kissed the tips of my fingers, throwing the same arm out in an exaggerated motion. "It's pretty damn perfect, no?" I spoke, mimicking an Italian accent.

Both Marshal and Merida snorted, causing me to grin. However, my smile quickly faltered. "Wait, was I supposed to use a French accent? Or was Italian correct?"

"I honestly think you should have used a French one." Olaf responded, walking back into the room – arms loaded with tomatoes, mushrooms, peperoni, basil, and a few other distinct toppings.

"Really?" I hummed, imitating the accent just for his amusement. "I would've never known without your input, Monsieur."

Olaf giggled – giggled, I swear! – as he continued to wherever he was going. Merida brushed past me – hurrying to help the clumsy boy.

I walked the rest of the way up to the front counter, my attention finding Marshal once more. "Anyway, back to my original question. Am I delivering for now or cooking?"

"I haven't had any calls yet, but –" He was cut off by the ringing of the phone.

The corners of my mouth quirked up. "Is that, perhaps, our so very wanted orders? Or is it Ariel and Snow again?"

Shooting me a quick 'Shut the hell up', my boss put on a cool face. His voice was pleasant and warming. "Thank you for calling my pizzeria. This is Marshal. How may I help you tonight?"

A few moments passed that involved him nodding and writing down the customer's order and address.

A certain Scot cursed loudly – drawing my attention from my boss to her. After having helped Olaf with his pile of toppings, it looked as if they were now in a violent battle… one of the most fearsome, repeated clashes known to man. Rock, paper, scissors.

The redhead had just lost – for what seemed like the tenth time in a row from the tally Olaf was keeping on the dry-erase board. "I'll get yeh soon enough, yeh ole bear!"

I giggled at my friends' 'fighting'.

"Thank you sir, your order will be there at your requested time." Marshal hummed, hanging up the phone. His eyes slid over to me, and he smirked. "Guess who gets to deliver ten pizzas to a party, Elsa."

My smile instantly faded. 'He wouldn't… He knows how I hate crowds! I can barely deal with college… A party would be murder…'

A moment of silence followed his question as I stared at him. My mouth suddenly felt like cotton – dry. I swallowed as best as I could before speaking. "Merida, I would hope… after all…. Sending me there would be considered cruel and unusual punishment, I would think."

The man shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are going to deliver them. One, you need to get better around people. Two, you've called me 'Marshmallow man' twice today. And, three, the man asked for an extra cute girl to deliver them."

"Yeh are amazingly adorable!" Merida called over to me, covering her mouth as she snickered.

A blush spread across my face, and I dragged my beanie down even further, giving in to one of my many nervous ticks. This one tended to show when I wore hats, mainly due to the fact it involved them. I've ruined quite a few good fedoras from tugging on them, so I tended to stick with wearing hats without a fixed shape. "… Do I have to?" I mumbled, my gaze finding its way to my feet. "I mean, just brush Merida's hair and put a bow in it, and she could be at least somewhere half as adorable as you're making me sound."

"Oy!" The Scot protested, tossing a pencil in my general direction. "I can be ten times as adorable as yeh – without the bow!"

"You are delivering the pizzas, Elsa." Marshal stated firmly. "But, he doesn't want them until seven. So, you have some down time until then. Go make sure the dough machine is clean before actually preparing the dough. As for you Merida…"

He turned towards the Scotswoman. "You get to help Olaf prepare the toppings. After all, I know how much you enjoy sharp objects. I'll start on the sauce."

Merida made a sound of appreciation, dragging the smaller boy with her over to the counter full of the said toppings.

I sighed, making my way over to the rest of them. "Leave me with the most hated job, why don't you?" I grumbled.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

I hummed along to the catchy tune of 'Next Contestant' by Nickelback, turning up the radio a few notches.

"I judge by what she's wearing, just how many heads I'm tearing –"

I tapped my index finger on the soft, leather-covered steering wheel of my car to the tune.

"– off of -holes coming onto her! Each night seems like it's getting worse!"

If one listened carefully enough, you could tell the radio station had edited the song so that it was at least somewhat clean. I slowed to a crawling pace, reading each address carefully.

"I wish she'd take the night off, so I don't have to fight off –"

I glanced back up at the road, my gaze sweeping the area in front of me cautiously. I'd hate to hit a cat or some small dog if it suddenly darted out in front of me.

"– every -hole coming onto her. It happens every night she works!"

"Well, I can see where having her as a girlfriend gets to be a bit annoying." I muttered to myself, turning the radio down completely as I parked in front of the correct home.

Reaching over to the passenger side, I opened the glove box compartment and pulled out a pair of black, leather gloves. You know, just in case I needed to commit murder.

Some of the customers tended to get a bit 'handsy' if given the slightest chance.

… Okay, that's a lie. The gloves weren't for murder. They were to protect my hands from the heat of the pizza when I walked it up to the house to hand them over.

I pulled them on, grabbed all ten of the pizzas, and stepped out of my car.

My breath fogged in the cool night air, and I was immensely glad I had chosen to wear a scarf and a hat. I'd hate myself in the morning if I got frostbite and lost a finger or something. I snorted at the thought. 'Frostbite? I know it's the end of fall, but I doubt that it's cold enough for something like that to occur.'

Kicking the car door shut with my foot, gently of course, I made my way up to the house. Music blared from the inside, beating against both the walls of the house and the night air. However, it was extremely muffled. But, the tune was easy to pick out.

I frowned, tilting my head to the side as I paused to see if I could recognize the song…

No such luck.

It sounded something along the lines of pop or hip-hop. It could possibly even be rap. I was more into rock n' roll or metal – bands like 'Hollywood Undead' or 'Breaking Benjamin'.

Shrugging, I mashed the doorbell with an elbow, having filled my hands with boxes of pizzas moments ago. It was probably an odd sight to see, but my method of worked. So why fix it? It wasn't broken.

The door almost immediately flew open, revealing a handsomely dressed man with the most startling, yet well-kept sideburns I've seen. Everything about him – from the clothes on his back, the look on his face and the way he presented himself – just screamed player. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from scoffing. 'Why hello, Danny Zuko.'

He smiled at me, trying to appear charming, as he leaned up against the doorframe - playing it cool. "Hi. I'm Hans."

I forced a somewhat-pleasant smile onto my face, nodding. "Hi, Hans. My name's Elsa. As you can see, I have you pizzas. The total is one hundred twenty two plus some change."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." He reached a hand out, as if to shake my hand. However, I ignored the offered limb – dumping the ten boxes of pizza into his arms instead. "Here's your meal. You mentioned you were going to be paying cash up front, right?"

He nodded, though his smile faltered slightly. 'What's wrong, your oh-so-manly charms not working quite as quickly as you had hoped? Don't be so surprised' I thought to myself. However, my smile never faltered.

He disappeared inside, muttering something about needing to get his wallet.

My hands instantly flew up to my hat the moment he was out of sight, tugging it down a little further.

I glanced around at what little of his home I could see, noting how few people were there. Maybe the party had just began? Or maybe he just invited only his closest of friends?

Well, considering how he ordered ten pizzas, it was probably just starting out.

A white couch sitting against the wall opposite to the door, and a somewhat familiar redhead lounging on it grinned at me, giving a wave. I frowned, glancing behind me. Was she waving to... to me?

I turned my gaze back to her, and she rolled her eyes pointedly before nodding.

After a moment of hesitation, I gave a small wave back.

She covered her mouth in a giggle, twirling one of her braids around a finger. I tilted my head, studying her momentarily. Why did she look so damn familiar?

Was she in one of my classes? Or perhaps she came by the pizzeria every now and then? Have I bumped into her at some point or another when shopping? Perhaps we were gaming buddies. Then again, I wouldn't know. I never met any of my gaming buddies face-to-face – save Olaf. We played - surprise, surprise - Left4Dead a lot.

Hans reappeared in the doorway, a wad of cash in hand. He counted out a hundred and twenty three, pocketing the rest. He gave another attempt at bedazzling me with a smile as he handed it over before speaking. "Keep the change. Anyway, tomorrow at eight, I'm going to be dining at one of the finest restaurants in this city. I want you to join me. How's that for a tip?"

The girl on the couch behind him gagged visibly, causing me to snort. Then again, I also found his offer quite unappealing too. It was ridiculous of him to hit on the delivery girl. Did he not have a girl of his own? Or maybe he was trying to prove a point to a gay friend or something similar. "I'd rather the extra thirty cents you gave me as a tip than that."

His smile instantly fell, slight shock crossing his face. It seemed as if Danny Zuko wasn't quite as used to being turned down as all the other guys. Poor, poor baby player. "Are you sure?" Hans asked – his voice no longer quite as pleasant.

The girl behind him rose to her feet, frowning. "Hans, stop hitting on the pizza delivery chick."

If the man heard her, he didn't show it. However, He did begin to back away from the doorway.

"Yes, I'm sure." I mumbled.

He nodded once, though stiffly, before shutting the door. However, the redhead managed to slip outside right before he did.

The corners of her mouth grew up into a cute grin, and I now knew where I had seen her. 'This is the girl I basically used as a throw pillow earlier today.'

"Fancy seeing you around here." She hummed, titling her head as she shoved her hands into her jean pockets.

I nodded, my face heating up slightly from the memory of knocking her down. "Y- Yea, um, s- sorry about earlier today."

The redhead laughed, shaking her head. "Hey, it's no problem. I mean, considering how cute you are, one can't help but not mind being used as a landing pad."

My blush reddened considerably as I tugged on the edges of my beanie. "C- Cute? You're not going to start hitting on me as well, are you? Because, that would basically make you a hypocrite."

The girl laughed, one corner of her mouth pulling up so that the grin was now lopsided. It was quite a distracting sight, the smile. It was the kind of grin that would make you pull over when driving just to kiss the person who wore it at least once. Or repeatedly.

I blinked. 'Where did that come from?'

"Then, a hypocrite I am." The girl giggled, drawing my attention away from that oh-so-distracting smile and up to her teal eyes. "My name's Anna."

"I'm Elsa." I mumbled, taking a step back. "It's nice to meet you, Anna."

The said girl chuckled, drawing out a pack of cigarettes from her jean pockets. She pulled one out, sticking it between her lips as she leaned up against the brick wall of the structure. "I'd offer you a cigarette," The redhead mumbled. "But you're already smoking hot."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Nice try but just a single pick-up line isn't going to work."

Anna hummed, digging around in her pocket for what I assumed was a lighter. "Challenge accepted. By the way, you look familiar. Did we have class together at some point? I could have sworn we had chemistry."

"Not unless we went to the same high school." I rolled my eyes at the pick-up line, shaking my head. "I've got to go. Bye."

Giving a small wave, I turned to leave. However, her voice caused me to pause momentarily. "Hey, do you have a light? I've seemed to have misplaced my book of matches."

I shook my head, glancing over my shoulder at her as I smiled. "No, I don't smoke."

And that was the beginning of a series of meeting. A smile, a name, and a pick-up line.

That's chapter two! So, please review! Ideas are appreciated! Love,

Angel