Bowl of cereal in one hand, and a cardboard box balanced under the other arm, he pushes the back door open with his hip.
"Hey. You got a package from North," he says to the girl kneeling next to the raised bed of soil. She seems to be doing hard work on her vegetable garden despite the infernal temperatures today.
Wiping the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve, Elsa stands up. After taking off her gardening gloves, she accepts the package with a breathless thanks and carefully sets it down on the deck's floor.
Casually, he takes a seat on the sectional sofa with one of his legs up. With his mouth full of half-chewed cereal, he asks, "What did he send you?"
"Hmm. I keep depositing some money into his account to cover rent even though he continuously told me not to. So in exchange, he started sending me care packages from the places he visits. This is probably one of them."
"Hold on, you pay rent?"
"Of course I pay rent," Elsa snorts. "What kind of unscrupulous leech do you take me for—" She stops when she sees the dejected look on his face. Clearing her throat, she quickly adds, "To be fair, you're family. It's different in your case."
He smiles, even if only to acknowledge her attempt at comforting him. "So anyway. What's in the box?"
The girl uses her pruning shears to get the box open and peeks inside. "It's mostly exotic snacks and fun little trinkets." She pulls up a little straw doll to illustrate her point.
"Hmm…"
She looks at him, raised eyebrow in challenge. "What?"
He chugs the sugary milk on the bottom of his bowl, then clanks it down on the table. "How come he sends you souvenirs and cookies and all I get are the occasional questions about having children any time soon?"
Elsa shifts her body so she can properly face him. Her posture is erect, voice is clear and to the point, "I'm just an outsider so correct me if I'm wrong but… weren't you the one who demanded that Nicholas, paraphrasing his words, stopped smothering you and started living his own life?"
He frowns. Mouth opens. And closes. "... I sound like a jerk when you put it like that."
"So you didn't say that."
"No, pretty sure I did."
She nods slowly. "I see…"
"Look—" He runs a hand through his hair, uncertain about what exactly to say at that moment. "North is great, super generous, super supportive. Hell, the fact that I'm not living in the streets right now is all thanks to him," Jack says, genuinely. He drops his head back and shuts his eyes when the sun's clarity becomes too much. "But I didn't want him to keep cleaning up after my messes anymore, you know? Prove that I could make it on my own and all that. Big joke." He laughs, making a wide gesture to indicate his current housing arrangements.
"It's not." Elsa leans on one hand and gives him a commiserating smile. She fondly looks at the house. "Believe me, we're on the same boat there."
He stares at her, watching her playing with the fraying hem of her shirt like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, the pursed lips, the wispy hairs curling at the nape of her neck. Some weird feeling upsets his stomach. Maybe it's the milk. It's probably expired. He swallows down the knot forming in his throat.
"Guess we are, huh?"
Somebody mentioned that Elsa is very bitchy and Jack's always the one who's trying and well... you're not wrong. Thing is, in my head, Elsa is kinda stuck up and walks around with a chip on her shoulder so she comes off as *ahem* cold. Also, she's so self-conscious that most of the time I try to make her flirty and girly, she starts stammering and putting up her walls shutting everybody out. So it's kinda... more natural... to make her a snarky little bitch. Sorry, yall. I'm trying.