Sometimes, trying to be an adult sucks. It's not like a thing in particular is triggering her annoyance—it's a sequence of little nuisances daily layering on top of one another, piling up stress and draining her energies. And when it becomes too much, Elsa is too tired at the end of the day for anything more than cheap takeout, wine, and a very long bubble bath. But her grand plan is threatened when she returns home.
Jack's dog—the black one he calls Edgin greets her at the door, jumping on his hind legs and smearing her face with slobber. She's getting quite used to the dogs' attacks, strengthening her core and overall balance, which saves her from dropping onto the floor every time they encounter each other. Less injuries too. Explaining the random bruises on her arms was starting to earn Elsa rather odd looks from her acquaintances.
"Hello to you too," she mumbles, shying away from the dog's affectionate tongue.
"Hey." Jack waves with a can of beer in hand. "I'm feeling sorry for myself and in the mood for pigging out. Join me, wontcha?"
As Elsa approaches, she can't help but be alarmed by the four boxes of pizza and packs of beer he has on the coffee table, some of which are already empty.
"We can watch a movie," he adds when she says nothing in response.
He points the remote at the TV and starts going through his recommendations tab. Lots of horror movies show up.
"Hmm…" She looks back at the coffee table. Pizza does sound good tonight. And something about the way Jack is sprawled on the couch, numb to the outside world, eyes drooping lazily, tired smile pulling at the corner of his lips compels her to stay. He looks so cozy and relaxed. She sighs. "Let me get changed first."
Halfway up the stairs, Jack's voice reaches her again, "Hey, what about a Scream marathon?"
Elsa flinches, starting to mourn her relaxing bubble bath the second he says that. All in all, things could be worse, she tells herself. Anna could barge in wearing a minidress and demanding a girls' night out. A crate could open in the middle of the nearby park and demonic creatures could start spawning from it, causing the apocalypse. Sentient snowmen could start falling from the sky. A '90s/early 2000s slasher marathon with Jackson is fine, even if it's not what she first had envisioned when she returned home at the start of the evening. Some odd feeling in the back of her mind can't say no to him. A part of her probably doesn't even want to either—oh god... No, it's fine. Really. She's just tired and not thinking straight. It's the exhaustion talking. Elsa's fine. She is fine.
Everything is fine.