so ive got like, up to chapter 60 written. i wrote 10k words today so this is my treat for you all :) I hope you like it!

still not edited tho, soz

It doesn't take long to get back to the room. Bente isn't at the front desk, but an older gentlemen is. Probably her husband, or maybe her brother. It seems a little unlikely to you that he'd just be working part time at a motel unless he were.

Of course, you might be completely wrong, but who knows. You don't have the courage OR the language skills to ask, so you don't bother. You just follow Elsa towards the room.

As soon as she enters, she heads towards the bathroom. Again. It's about the only place to get some privacy in here, though. You see her yawn again before she closes the door, and you wonder how she's going to last until dinner. A quick glance at your phone tells you that it's just past 3, and she hasn't eaten lunch, either. Not unless she did while you were sleeping. Which... is not out of the realm of possibilities. You're a pretty heavy sleeper even when you're not exhausted.

When she comes back out, her hair is out of its braid. It's much longer than you first thought.

"Feel free to order room service tonight," she says. "They'll put it on the room tab and we'll pay when we get another room." You nod, and then she's heading towards her suitcase, grabbing a computer charger and an adapter and moving outside to the veranda to keep working.

Room service. So...

It's stupid, but you... thought the reservation had been for the both of you.

It's not rejection, not really, but it still cuts. You didn't expect to come to a new country and spend the second evening alone, is all. You haven't moved from your spot near the door, so when Elsa comes back in, heading towards the small kitchen, she pauses.

"Is that acceptable?" she asks, in that stupidly sophisticated voice of hers. You nod and hurry to say something; think of any excuse.

"Y-yeah. I just... hope the menu is in English!" you say. Elsa gives a half-hearted smile that seems to be more about making you feel like your joke was funny than to convey any actual comfort. She gets a glass of water and returns to her seat outside.

You, on the other hand, get comfy on your bed. Open your computer to at least make it look like you're doing work. There's probably a hundred emails to answer, and it lets you distract yourself. You don't really notice the time passing, except for when your stomach starts grumbling.

Funny, though. You don't really feel all that hungry.

Sometime after six-thirty, Elsa comes back inside. The sun is still shining brightly, and she leaves the curtains open even as she closes the door. Puts her computer away and pulls out some clothes and heads towards the bathroom.

She spends... a lot of time in there. You hear the shower running for almost 45 minutes, and then the hairdryer for another 20. She doesn't make any kind of reappearance until close to eight, when she opens the door to grab her phone and call the driver.

Your mouth is completely dry, and you can't tear your eyes away.

You've always known that Elsa is beautiful. But you've never had to confront that beauty while she was wearing what has to be the most expensive dress ever made.

It's blue and pale and made of some kind of satin that shimmers like a thousand stars. There's a slit in it, riding up to halfway up her thigh, and every time she walks, you think that you might just get a glimpse of a little more.

Of course, that's completely ignoring her bust, or the delicate necklace that rests above it.

God, you could spend a million bucks on cosmetic surgery and you'd never look half as beautiful as Elsa.

Thankfully, she doesn't seem to notice you staring. She's frowning at her phone, but this time, you absolutely can't work up the courage to ask her if she's okay.

It's daunting, almost intimidating, seeing her like this.

You've got your gaze firmly fixed on your computer, reading a stupid email about some kind of presentation some company wants Elsa to give, when she speaks.

"Right. I'm not sure when I'll be back, or how long this will take. Feel free to turn off any alarms; we don't have anything on until tomorrow afternoon."

You look up and nod, eyes roving over her again. She moves towards the door, and that's when you find your voice.

"Hey, Elsa?" She turns to look at you. "You uh, you look really nice."

Her eyes widen a fraction, and she offers a jerky nod. "T-thank you, Anna."

And then she's gone, leaving you alone.

You sigh, close the email, and open up Netflix. If you have the evening to yourself, you may as well enjoy it.

Opening up Doctor Who, you settle in to watch The Doctor and Rose save the world, one disaster at a time. A throwback to your childhood.

Maybe you should see if Kristoff is awake...