Elsa brushes her hair back behind her ear, knowing her braid is a mess as much from Jessica's hands as a result of the fight. "Mm," she says, a bit strained, searching for her words. "That's — yes, I — well, you know. I..." She still feels warm all over with it, and if her skin is crawling with nerves, the butterflies in her stomach aren't from anxiety at least. She hasn't said that she likes girls before, because she's not sure she does. She likes Jessica. Everything and everyone else seems separate from that. "I wasn't expecting it."