[ He'd grown fond of Jack over time, both of them having a passion for the cold of winter and the crystalline beauty of the ice that was so abundant in the North from where Kristoff had come from brought them together. He wasn't an adult, he was only still a teenager, only a few years older than Jack he'd estimated, and while he'd grown up quickly out of a need to provide for himself and Sven, but Jack brought out the youth in him. His desire for innocence and fun. He didn't know much about the boy, his origins or his story, but that was of little importance. Jack had become the little brother he'd always wanted, the familial companionship he'd always been without. When Jack fell asleep one day in an igloo they'd built, features soft and relaxed, though still with the impression of amusement they so often held, he looked down upon him with a fond gaze, lips pulling into a small smile. He lightly placed his lips against the boy's cold forehead, a sentiment he'd witnessed between Elsa and Anna, a siblinghood he found that he likened to the relationship between Jack and him. ] ❝Sweet dreams, Jack. Don't let the frostbite bite.❞