Jack's schedule is pretty inconsistent. Often, he has to cover someone's shift at the parlor, or some client has to reschedule a session, messing up the calendar, but Mondays are usually his days off.

He kinda likes that. Being able to go at his own pace, doing his stuff, lazying around when the average adult would be heating up their engines and going back to the grind. Instead of all that, he takes the dogs to the park, finds some shade, and sketches some new designs on a pad. He does some cleaning in the afternoon, cooks, and runs his usual weekly errands as well. When night comes, he has a free slot for a beer or two at a local bar before heading back home for a good night of sleep.

But when he reaches the front porch, he notices the kitchen lights are still on… and there's an Elsa hunched over one of the bar stools, grunting and poking at a pint of ice cream like a grump. It makes for quite an interesting picture, actually, what with her in her classy vintage getup handling that spoon like it's a lethal weapon and that ice cream, a vicious mass murderer that deserves nothing but a ruthless death by her tiny and perfectly manicured little hands.

''Hi…"

She groans, digs her spoon deeper into the carton, and glares in his direction. "What do you want?"

Unfazed by her animosity, he crosses the kitchen, arms brushing when he passes her, and shoves his doggie bag inside the fridge. Glass bottles rattle inside when the door is slammed shut. "I literally just said hi."

"Sorry." Elsa rubs her eyes, shoulders sagging with what looks like the weight of a baby elephant on them. She sighs. "I'm having a less than great day."

Jack leans back against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. His eyebrows furrow. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," she scoffs.

Having had the privilege of closely watching her analytical mind working over the past few weeks, he doesn't take that as a diss at him. It sounds more like the usual Miss Overachiever not wanting to show her weaknesses in front of a person she esteems as much as she does a caterpillar eating her precious heirloom tomatoes.

"Okay," he says with a shrug.

"Sorry," Elsa mumbles again. She puts her hands down and looks up, tired eyes finally meeting his. Her hair is frizzed and coming out of her braid. Dark crusts of mascara cluster under her eyes. "One of my bridal classes is being…"

There's a long pause as she tries to find the right word, so he suggests, "Challenging?"

A hollow laugh slips her lips. "You could say that."

"Can't someone else handle the class?"

"I can't really afford to pass the pay." She shrugs. "Student loans."

"I didn't know you needed a degree to become a gym instructor."

"Says the tattoo artist!"

"Rude! But I guess I dropped out of art school in my second year, so that's a little fair," he concedes, shifting his weight between his feet. "And I wasn't trying to insult you, you know. I'm curious. What did you major in?"

"Social work. Dipped my toes in the forensics area for a while."

He whistles, impressed. "That's one specific career path."

Elsa unties her hair and hunches forward, the freshly released locks covering her face like a wavy curtain. She goes back to poking her ice cream to pieces. "Yeah. Didn't last long."

"Can I ask what happened?"

She laughs sardonically. "Turns out, dissociating from victims of violence is a lot harder to do on a daily basis."

The memories that still haunt her make her curl up, hugging her arms as if in physical pain. She pales, eyebrows creased and jaw tight. The girl is distraught beyond words.

He shakes his head slowly, empathetic. His eyes soften. "I can't even imagine how rough it must've been."

She smiles melancholically at her ice cream. "Which is why I teach yoga now. Spreading mental health awareness, positivity, and all that jazz."

"Hey, that's great too. At least you're not profiting off of cheesy couples tattooing each other's names on their bodies just for one of them to end up cheating on the other, or racists who think Japanese ideograms are badass."

She bites her lower lip, but he can see a hint of a smile there. "Can't say that I am."

"See? Silver lining." He smirks. "So I guess there's a good side in me coming to live here after all."

She tilts her head, intrigued. "Which would be?"

Jack shrugs. "I'm splitting the bills with you. Should save us both some money…" As an afterthought, he quickly adds, "If you're okay with it."

"I suppose there could be worse options."

"Right." He clicks his tongue. Moving to stand right in front of her on the other side of the island, he leans on his forearms, tongue sticking out playfully. "Like you stabbing me to death in my sleep."

Elsa licks melted ice cream off her spoon and uses it to gesture at him. "I would never do something so unrefined."

"You make it sound like you're fine with finding other ways to kill me though."

"You hear what you want to hear, Jackson—"

"Jack's fine," he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Her spoon goes back to the carton, and then back to her parted lips. "I'd rather it be a crime of passion though. A lot easier to justify in court."

His narrowed eyes move from the smidge of cream on the corner of her mouth and he blinks. His Adam's apple bobs painfully.

"Lady," he seethes. "We need to talk about your flirting technique."

I started reading a book series called American Royals by Katharine Mcgee and there's a new book coming in a few days and one of the protagonists is Elsa. She is Elsa you guys. She falls for her bodyguard but has to go on with an arranged marriage because she's gonna be the first queen of America and blah blah blah drama drama romance. Honestly, she was one of the few characters I really cared about in the story, but boy did I care about that girl. So if you're interested, go check it out.

And for those wondering: ATWQ! is over. I haven't thought about that fic in months and don't really have any new ideas for more chapters. But do consider giving me ideas for my pregnancy!Jelsa fic Time After Time, 'cuz I really enjoyed writing that Jack and would like to explore that one a little more!