Elsa is in a kitchen, staring somewhat dubiously into a pantry, attempting to decide what she's going to try to get into some kind of edible state.

In spite of the best efforts of a variety of friends, she still can't really cook well. She can make rice or pasta and drop a tin of something on it, or she can bake an apple -- things like that. When there are eggs, now and then, she'll boil one.

She's still perusing a pantry when Glacius walks in, laden with food. She glances over her shoulder, and she's startled by his great height and how much he's carrying. A little exclamation slips out: "Oh!"

Then she takes a closer look. The tall man isn't exactly a man: behind all that food, he looks like he's made of glass, or maybe ice. She's not sure she's seeing what she thinks she's seeing, and it's rude to stare, but her expression brightens nonetheless. If he is made of ice... well, maybe she'll make a new friend.

And if he's not a friend, she can handle herself.

"Hello! I... I don't think we've met. Do you need any help with that?"