"HEY!"

The door back to the house barges open and an unknown man is storming through the deck toward her. He's tall, commanding, with broad shoulders and arms covered in tattoos. His face is red with fury, all tense muscles and menacing energies emanating in heavy waves. Elsa instinctively grabs for her water bottle, readying herself to do something if he comes too close. She takes her earphones out.

"Who are you? And how the hell did you get in?!" she hisses.

"I had a key." The man jiggles a ring of keys in one hand. Behind him, another man stops by the door, hands flexing and unflexing at the sides of his body—that one looks slightly uncomfortable at being there.

Elsa looks back at the man with the keys. His explanation does nothing to lessen the tension in the air, and the bottle remains ready in her hand.

"Listen, sir, I don't know who you think you are but—"

The air is knocked out of her when a giant mass of black fur slams into her chest, making her lose her footing, and sends her crashing onto the ground. Before she can get up, heavy paws keep her trapped, digging holes in her arms while slobber rains down on her cheeks and neck. More dogs pile up on top of her, waggling their tales and scratching her skin, and she struggles to keep them away from her face.

"GET THESE THINGS OFF ME!"

"Sure." The man comes sauntering to her side and crouches next to her. His smirk is cold and demeaning, and it more than pisses her off. "As soon as you answer a few questions, lady."

"Jack! What the hell are you doing?!" the other man shouts from somewhere out of her sight.

"Stay out of this, Hiccup."

"Oh, I am not taking part in that…" 'Hiccup' grumbles as he drags his feet back inside and the door shuts after him.

"I have nothing to tell you—you obnoxious assailant!"

The supposed 'Jack' person sneers, "You wanna compare crimes, Miss Squatter?"

"This is my house, dumbass."

"Uh, unless you're a former Russian mobster who underwent some phenomenal plastic surgery"—his eyes roam her body, lingering a little longer on her cleavage, and what little coolness Elsa still had within evaporates in the blink of an eye. She fumes, red rising to her ears. She tries to kick him, but he easily subdues her with a firm grip on her thigh—"no, it's not."

"Who do you think you are, you stupid Neanderthal—Wait." His words finish processing, causing her struggles to momentarily stop. She looks at him again, the dots connecting slowly inside her head. "You're Jackson. Nicholas' nephew."

"Okay, kinda weird that you'd refer to my uncle by his first name, but also, how the hell do you know my name?"

"Can you get your dogs off me?" she huffs, trying to blow damp hair off her face with little success.

Jackson seems to ponder that for a moment before taking pity on her and finally letting out a whistle. The three dogs immediately respond, huddling around him like well-trained hounds, and he spreads his arms to pet their heads.

"Thank you…" she mumbles, awkwardly fixing her appearance as she sits up. Mangled grass sticks to her slobbered-up skin. She shudders.

He continues to stare at her with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "Now how the hell do you know my name, Ms Trespasser?"

"Your uncle won't stop talking about you." She rolls her eyes while getting up on her feet. She dusts her leggings with a few pats. "And if it's not clear yet, I'm supposed to be tending to his house while he's away. I live here, idiot."

Jackson laughs. "That's a joke, right?"

"Do you want me to show you my underwear drawer to prove to you that it's not?" She means it as a jab, but as soon as the words leave her lips, she realizes her mistake. All the bravado leaves her countenance like air leaving a deflating balloon. Her eyes widen, and heat rises up her neck. "Ignore what I just said."

Amused, he takes advantage of her wavering and takes a step forward to confide, "You know, in my experience, there's usually dinner and a few drinks to be had before any underwear drawers are even mentioned."

She snorts, hands adamantly placed on her hips to maintain her ground. "Five seconds ago, you were accusing me of trespassing."

"Jury is still out on that one." Jackson shrugs. "Also, you're the one who started flirting with me."

"That wasn't flirting—"

"Sure it was. Great effort. Solid seven, seven-and-a-half."

"I wasn't asking for validation, you moron."

"Everybody deserves a bit of encouragement now and then."

"You know what? I should call the cops on you—"

"Ha! Not if I call them first—"

"Hey, uh…" There's a knock on the door and the other guy from before peers at the two of them an uncertain scowl on his face. "Sorry to interrupt what I'm sure is the beginning of a beautiful thing but I still gotta get back to the shelter after this so… am I bringing the rest of your stuff inside or what?"