Instead of taking their new dorm mate out for a night on the town (as Anna and Cindy badly wanted to do), the new addition to their group was jetlagged, and insisted on staying in.

"… So where did you say you were from again?"

"I didn't," drawled the young woman.

"Meg's from Thebes," supplied Anna helpfully, "I saw it on her luggage."

"Which is in the country of unwashed deep fryers."

Elsa deliberately ignored it, but Anna's curiosity was insatiable. "Deep fryers?"

"Ancient Greece."

Cindy groaned, pillow held aloft; she looked like she was debating between targeting the person who had actually made the joke, or the person that took the bait. She picked the latter. Anna squeaked as the pillow caught her in the side of her face.

Much to everyone's surprise, Elsa actually grinned. "And here I was thinking cold jokes were my specialty."

Meg laughed. "You wanna go head-to-head with me, Princess?"

"First of all, I don't see how living in congealed oil can produce that atrocious American accent. Secondly, if you have to address me by my title, it's Queen Elsa to you, doulos."

"Two direct hits, and the last one sinks the battleship." She dropped her fist into a pillow, making an exploding noise. "Not bad. It's been a while since I've had a proper challenge like that."

Anna slung an arm around Elsa's shoulders. "That's my girl."

Cindy made a small sound of irritation. The only reason why she wasn't revolting against their sedate evening in was because Meg had smuggled alcohol in her luggage – thus earning the loyalty of both her and Anna.

Elsa was less bribable, and that was no fun at all.

"Your girl, eh?" The crude remark was followed by a wink and leer, the meaning of which was only indecipherable to the blind or socially impaired. "Possessive much?"

Anna laughed awkwardly. "No way, Cindy – that would imply that Elsa and I were dating, or something." The girl in question had turned cherry-red, which was a surprisingly warm colour for someone who was practically a poster child for winter palettes. The redhead noticed, and hastily added, "Not that I wouldn't want to date you, Elsa – I mean, you're the most gorgeous, amazing, wonderful person I know – "

"How touching," drawled Meg. "Anna, you've really got a way with words."

"That is, when her mouth isn't filled with her foot," smirked Cindy.

Anna shot them both filthy looks, interspersed with worried glances at Elsa. They just took it as encouragement.

"Now why would you want a foot in your mouth? I'm not kink-shaming or anything – whatever floats your boat and all – but there are just so many other things you could have in there, like – "

"Meg!"

"Like food," said Meg without batting an eyelash. "Beer. Or, if you insist, me – though I don't think Elsa over there would be too happy about it. Tut, that's a filthy little mind you've got there. Not like it's a bad thing, though."

"Not at all," added Cindy with all the gravity of a medium-sized planet. "I always like imagination in a partner. Adds spice to an otherwise boring meal."

"The hot chili sauce to lube."

"The spiked leather collars to whips and chains," said Cindy, and raised an eyebrow. "Hot sauce? Really?"

"Hey, I could say the same about your spiked leather collars."

"Those aren't really a big thing. My favourites are the insanely high stilettos; nothing says 'you're my bitch' like those."

Elsa made a squeaking sound. Anna's head whipped around, and she stared at the other two girls. Both Cindy and Meg blinked, all wide-eyed innocence.

"… Right."