Elsa can't ignore the bags under Anna's eyes. She's worried, but she can't stop her own giddy smile. Her heart wants to beat right out of her chest, and she can't blame it.

She's talking to an old friend. Elsa hasn't thought of Anna as "my husband's mistress" in weeks. Months, probably.

"Work keeping you busy?"

Anna shrugs. "You know, bills to pay. No point going home-" She cuts herself off, but the words weigh heavy in the air. It's the closest they've ever come.

Elsa looks away. "Yeah. Bills..."