He slides down the fireman's pole in the morning like a child, and as soon as he appears in the kitchen, she tells him that exactly. "You really are a child."
He rolls his eyes. "You have no idea how much I had to fight my uncle and his stupid architect designer to keep that pole in the remodeling. Little Jack would kick my ass if I didn't use it every chance I got."
She hums as she turns the faucet off and dries her hands with a towel. Her lips are pressed together and there's a crease between her brows. "You said you living here was a temporary solution."
"It is."
"How long do you reckon?"
"Beats me." With a shrug, he goes to the fridge and starts loading his arms with an assortment of condiments and fillings. "Been a little too busy to meet up with any real estate agents."
"I've noticed," she mocks, reminded of her long week of interrupted nights of sleep. "Getting acquainted with the new neighborhood, aren't we?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You've been coming home at the break of dawn every goddamn night since you moved in."
"Excuse you, I was working," he spits, splattering mayonnaise on a piece of white bread with an annoyed flick of his wrist. "I work at a tattoo parlor, and late nights when the fun is high and the inhibitions are low is prime time for spur-of-the-moment tattoos."
She shifts her weight, glowering at him with her arms folded. "You profit off of people's drunken bad choices?"
The man has the audacity to smirk at her. "Entrepreneurism at its best."
"If you say so. Well, try to be a little quieter from now on, you sound like a—"
As Elsa walks past the kitchen archway, a golden flurry tackles her to the floor, a pair of furry paws heavy on her shoulder blades, wet tongue lapping at her jaw, and she screams in panic. "GET THIS MONSTROSITY OFF OF ME!"
"Easy, lady, she just wants to play." He whistles to catch the dog's attention. "Mia, come on, let the grumpy lady be."
The golden retriever saunters to its owner, proud of itself as if the surprise attack was a huge favor to Elsa. The dog waggles its tail happily as Jack coos soft words of encouragement and pets it on the head.
Elsa hurriedly gets up, wiping slobber with the back of her hand whilst nonstop glowering at that stupid guy. "Your dog is a public menace."
"My dog is a total sweetheart," he counters, clicking his tongue. "It's not her fault you don't have one."
"I don't have one what?"
He smiles, white teeth sparkling as he props his chin with both hands, whole face lighting up, all fake innocence and infantile wonder. The amusement in his eyes makes Elsa want to slap that ridiculous grin off his face completely.
"A sense of humor."