"This is VILE!" she exclaimed.
"How can you willingly consume such bitterness? Is this some form of Earth punishment ritual?"
I couldn’t help but laugh at her overdramatic reaction.
"It’s an acquired taste," I admitted.
"Here, let me make you something milder."
I prepared a café au lait, adding a generous spoonful of sugar and a drizzle of honey before handing it to her.
All the while, she maintained her position tucked against my side, moving with me.
Elsa accepted the new mug cautiously.
She took a tentative sip, and her eyes widened.
A moan escaped her lips that was frankly obscene, causing me to shift uncomfortably.
"By the Silver-Bark Tree," she breathed.
"This is... this is... there are no words in your primitive mortal language to describe this magnificence."
She took another sip, making that same inappropriate sound with her eyes closed.
I cleared my throat.
"Why don’t you take your mug and go sit on the sofa?" I suggested.
"I’ll join you in a minute."
Elsa opened her eyes all the way to glare at me.
"Will you sit with me and not in that chair?" she asked, scowling in the direction of my recliner.
I raised an eyebrow.
"What did my recliner ever do to you?"
"It’s an abomination," she declared with absolute conviction.
"We should throw it away. Or burn it in a heap. I am a creature of comfort and relaxation, and I enjoy being physically close to you. Therefore, obstacles to that end are unacceptable."
I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee while shaking my head.
"Again, personal space is a thing here on Earth. People don’t typically press themselves against each other without invitation."
At this suggestion, Elsa’s eyes narrowed.
She muttered something under her breath in a language I didn’t know, then made a subtle gesture with her fingers.
Instantly, the surface of my coffee erupted in blue flame, like someone had poured gasoline on it and tossed a match.
"What the hell!" I exclaimed, holding the flaming mug away from myself.
Elsa pouted cutely while batting her eyelashes.
"Oh no, your beverage appears to be aflame."
"Put it out!" I demanded.
Elsa’s pout intensified with her lower lip protruding dramatically.
I sighed and tried to blow out the flames myself.
It took several attempts before the fire finally extinguished, leaving my coffee smelling distinctly of sulfur.
"I guess I’d better sit next to you for now," I conceded, setting the ruined coffee aside.
"But you’re a brat, you know that? And honestly a bit childish. It’s hard to imagine you being a legendary hero or whatever you’re supposed to be."
Rather than being offended, Elsa beamed at me with a smile bright enough to power a small city.
In one fluid motion, she set her coffee on the counter and hopped onto my back, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.
"Onward, handsome steed!" she commanded, pointing toward the living room.
I rolled my eyes but found myself carrying her anyway.
When we reached the sofa, she slid off my back and plopped down, patting the spot next to her invitingly.
"Sit here," she suggested, scooting to make room.
"We can watch more of your magical TV."
I sat down next to her, and immediately she nestled against my side, fitting herself neatly under my arm like she belonged there.
This is going to cause problems sooner or later, I thought grimly.
And I’m not sure what to do about it.
With great reluctance, I stretched out on the couch and reached for the remote.
"Hey, have you ever seen video games?" I asked, switching inputs on the TV.
I turned the console on beneath the TV stand.
"I’ve got a Super Pretendo. Let me show you."
Elsa looked suspicious at my sudden change of subject but was quickly distracted by the colorful title screen of Super Plumber Cousins that appeared on the TV.
"What manner of entertainment is this?" she asked while leaning forward with interest.
"It’s a game," I explained, thankful for the distraction.
"You control that little guy on the screen to run and jump through the level."
I demonstrated the controls, showing her how to make the character move, jump, and collect coins.
Elsa watched with cautious interest, though she seemed more interested in pressing herself against my side than in the game itself.
"Would you like to try?" I offered, holding out the controller.
She took it hesitantly with her fingers awkwardly positioned on the buttons.
Her first attempt ended quickly with her character falling into a pit, which prompted a surprisingly vulgar-sounding elvish curse.
An hour later, the scene had transformed entirely.
Elsa sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, hunched over the controller, utterly engrossed in the game.
Her earlier desire to be physically close to me seemed abandoned, thank God, as she navigated her character through increasingly complex levels with her competitive nature fully awakened.
"Die, turtle beast!" she shouted while mashing buttons furiously.
"Your shell shall adorn my royal chambers, you slut!"
My eyes bulged unexpectedly at that.
"Why is the turtle a slut?"
She looked at me bashfully out of her side-eye gaze, then back at the screen as she continued to play.
"No reason."
Then there was a pause.
"Grey, who was that girl you brought to your home, again?"
"Huh?" I asked.
"The pizza delivery girl? I don’t remember her name. Her boss doesn’t let her deliver outside Wapa Lake much anymore, though, so I haven’t heard from her in weeks."
"Ah. That’s good. I mean—oh."
I watched Elsa from the couch, and I found myself unable to suppress a fond smile.
Her intensity was both amusing and endearing—the way she bit her lower lip in concentration, the little victory dance she did when she completed a level, the creative elvish profanity when she failed.
She was undeniably bratty and spoiled, but there was something genuinely endearing about her enthusiasm.
My adulative grin disappeared instantly when, after getting a game over, Elsa casually rose from the floor, restarted the game, and without a word of warning, sat directly in my lap to continue playing.
I froze as my body went rigid.
She settled herself comfortably with her back to my chest, completely oblivious to the perilous situation she’d created.
Worse, her perky pajama-clad bottom kept wiggling and squirming as she played.
Each movement was bringing me closer to complete mortification.
Just as her movements were about to make my predicament impossible to miss, my phone rang from the kitchen.
With the reflexes of a man escaping a burning building, I practically launched Elsa onto the couch beside me and bolted for the kitchen.
"Hello?" I answered breathlessly, not even checking the caller ID.
"Sorry, uh, wrong number," said a weirdly familiar female voice before hanging up.
Hmm.
Where have I heard that voice before?
In any case, it came at the right time.
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath of relief.
Wrong number or divine intervention—I wasn’t picky.
When I turned back toward the living room, my relief evaporated.
Elsa sat on the couch with the controller set aside, game paused, arms crossed over her chest, and a thunderous expression on her face.
"I am dainty and delicate and deserve to be treated as such," she declared coldly.
"The manner in which I was discarded like refuse was supremely brutish and insulting."
This was it.
The point of no return, one way or another.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for a conversation I definitely didn’t want to start.
"I think we need to have a serious talk."