Heavy clouds darken the world outside and an earthy, fresh scent percolates the humid air. The pitter-patter of raindrops against the roof is comforting and the decrease in temperature is a soothing change. Rainy days are perfect for curling up with a blanket and a good mystery novel, and seeing as Elsa has the rest of the evening free, she decides to do just that.
"There you go." Jack comes up from behind her, holding out a mug of hot chocolate with an absurd mountain of whipped cream topped with mini marshmallows and dark chocolate shavings. She doesn't even want to think of the calories in that little concoction.
"Thanks," she says with a smile.
The beverage's smell alone makes her warm and cozy inside, and, true to that silly yet admittedly talented man's culinary prowess, the flavor does not disappoint. A decadent velvety texture coats her tongue; the chocolate's deep flavor is countered by the airiness of the cream in a balanced affair without being too overpoweringly sweet. There's also an unexpected aftertaste, the silky smooth chocolate giving room to a slight kick. Her entire mouth tingles.
She looks at him, sitting with his legs spread on the couch. "Did you put some sort of spice in it?"
"Mmhmm." After another sip, he adds, "Cinnamon and a little bit of black pepper. Been on and off toying with my recipe for a while. Any feedback?"
She rolls her tongue inside her mouth, cleansing the vestiges of sugar from her palate. "It's an acquired taste. But I could get used to it."
He grins, leaning lazily back on one arm. "Kinda like me, am I right?"
She audibly gags. "God, you're insufferable."
"I like 'acquired taste' better."
"Of course you do," she mumbles, shaking her head, but can't help the tiny smile that threatens to appear on her lips. "And here I was, hoping to have a nice and cozy rainy day just for it to be ruined by your egocentrism."
"How dare you?" He glares at her, exaggerated incredulity stamped on his face. "I made you hot chocolate, you ungrateful brat."
"You're right." She sets her book down and looks at him, loose hair falling over her eyes. Fueled by the warm velvety chocolate that makes her fuzzy inside, her voice lowers to a raspy, sleepy murmur. "How could I ever repay the favor?"
"You could try being nice to me for a change."
"Am I even not, Jackson?"
"Better yet: stop calling me that!"