She gives the tortoise a small lettuce leaf and watches amused as he nibbles it with his tiny yet surprisingly strong jaw. It's adorable. Out of all of Jack's pets, the turtle is probably her favorite: he's quiet, doesn't drool on her, and doesn't shed all over her bedsheets either. Also, he's probably the only other resident in the house who enjoys a healthy diet. With greens and salads. She's still watching the tortoise eat when Jack suddenly shows up.
He scratches his stomach and yawns like he's just woken up. "Morning."
It's past noon, she'd like to point out, but she knows his biological clock does not work the same way hers does so instead she says, "I let your turtle out for some sunlight. Hope you don't mind."
Slowly, he lowers himself to sit next to her on the stoop. "Careful. Don't want him eating your begonias."
She hides a chuckle behind a hand. "Do you even know what a begonia is?"
"Maybe not. But I don't think my turtle should be eating them either way."
Elsa hugs her legs, placing her chin on her knees. "Rest assured, they are very much out of his reach."
He leans back on his elbows and laughs. "Ain't that the truth, buddy?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, turning to face him.
"Who knows?"
"Okay then..."
"There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight. Once in a lifetime event."
The casual change of subject out of the blue amuses her, and she mocks, "What, you're an astronomy expert now?"
"No, but I do check the news regularly and I so happened to come across a headline titled Once in a lifetime meteor shower visible tonight."
"Convenient. Are you gonna watch it?"
He shrugs. "Nah, I'll be working. Possibly inking a zodiac constellation on somebody's collarbone if I'm lucky."
"Almost as exciting as a once-in-a-lifetime meteor shower."
"Almost. What about you?"
She hums. "Maybe. Why, want me to live-react it for you?"
When he looks at her, there's a sneaky smirk on his lips. "Sure."
"I was joking," she deadpans.
His arm brushes against her, and her breath catches in her throat. It takes all her willpower not to cowardly shrink away.
"Well, I'm not."