Elsa can feel the blush creeping along her skin, flushing its way up her neck and into her cheeks, hot as sunburn. "Do we?" she asks. She's just about bursting with it, though, shy as she feels about the prospect of discussing anything of the sort. It's so private, so personal, but she wants to tell everyone, if not the details then the most pertinent facts. In any case, she'd tell Anna if no one else.

"I didn't mean to get back so late. We got... derailed."