Elsa smiled, a mischief but a genuine pleasure in the expression. “I had no idea marriage could be so…fulfilling.” She let out a small, soft laugh and turned her head slightly to follow Killian’s gesture. Her eyes were back on Killian’s almost before they’d left; the whole exchange had been subtle, casual - it was almost like working with a partner. She’d been a solo agent for years, but she couldn’t deny finding your timing with another person was a special sort of thrill. It was, however, extremely surreal to be discussing murder with the man she’d woken up with this morning in a nice, normal little suburban house - although really, that wasn’t the same man as this Killian at all. “What a coincidence. I was just daydreaming about seeing that man’s blood all over a nice white carpet floor. Sort of like the floor in one of those nice private, discrete, and very sound proof hotel rooms upstairs…?”
"Trust me, love, I'm just as surprised as you are." Killian tongue darted out to wet his lips, the prospect of working with his wife sending a hunger for adrenaline through him. "I hate to crush your wonderfully vivid dreams, but creating a crime scene is not on my list of priorities tonight." In fact, he'd never done so - he was always instructed to be discreet. Perhaps Elsa, or whomever she worked for, wasn't used to that. But he was not leaving a mess behind.
