It is usually quite safe to say that nothing will happen on Wednesday nights, especially languid, humid ones in the middle of July, even in New York City. The air is sticking to every move Jack makes, pressing at the sides of his lungs, pawing at his skin. He is draped over the couch, flopped artlessly – were it cooler, he would be posing best as he knows how; even Bunny has commented that if they should ever have to come by funding through modeling, Jack is their best bet. But now his beauty is the last thing on his mind. There is the inescapable press of summer instead, and it has sucked out his energy and his intellect, leaving him a shell.

Jack has winter in his bones and on his skin - white as snow with eyes like artic ice; he truly is not made for the warm months of the city.

He is sticky and crabby, but no more so than the rest of the Guardians. Toothania has taken to skulking in front of the one working floor fan, her flock of loyal, rescued street children scattered around her in wilting petals, their multicolored shirts clinging to their sweating bodies as they doze. North vanished hours back, grumbling about New York's summer heat, how it was never this bad in Russia. Sandy is the only unaffected; but nothing much ever seemed to bother him. Jack can hear him clattering around in North's kitchen, riffling through the limited stocks of tea and the ample supply of vodka. He is a little tempted to yell for a bottle, but that requires effort and Jack isn't sure he has that available.

Bunny bursts through the door, silver streaked black hair sticking up in points around his huge ears. He looks oddly shocked – combined with his tattoos, this makes him seem even more like the creature he gets his name from. Toothania makes a flopping motion that might be a wave; it is aborted halfway through as she sinks back into a lazy heap on the floor.

"Ulf and Matilda Arendelle of the Royals are dead," Bunny announces, voice rough. Jack suddenly finds the ability to sit up straight. The air chills, and suddenly he feels distinctly cold.

A crashing in the kitchen means that Sandy heard. He appears in the doorway, golden hair sticking to his lined forehead. His hands flit in his own quiet language, and Bunny, a bit desperately, shrugs.

"Not sure. The Groundhog saw it, not me, and you know how reliable he can be. But it sounded like it's Pitch's work. Said the shot came out of the shadows just as they were leaving their apartment. Bled out before the ambulance made it a block – Groundhog is speculating about them adding some chemical to the bullets that stops the blood from clotting."

"Fuck. Like his Nightmares weren't bad enough." Toothania has not moved from her position in front of the fan. Her multicolored hair flops in the weak breeze it provides. From his place on the couch, Jack can see the way her fingers lightly rest over her belt, where she keeps thin, razor sharp butterfly knives, ready to use them at a moment's notice. "Are you sure?"

"As certain as I can be." Bunny glances around, sucking in a breath for a question he loathes asking. "Where's North?"

"Out. Not sure when he'll be back." Toothania purses her lips. "Who's the heir?"

Sandy reappears; Jack had not even noticed him leave. He pads silently across the creaking floor to hold out a half full glass of whiskey – not Bunny's favorite drink, but it works in a pinch. In the flickering light coming down in between rotations from their breaking ceiling fan, the alcohol looks like molten gold, the same color as Sandy's eyes. The shadows it casts across Bunny's tattoos when he takes it are fluid and fast changing. Like their lives. Something about death makes him melancholic and prosaic, perhaps.

Bunny takes a gulp, wincing. Jack sympathizes. He never liked whiskey himself. Now, vodka – that he understands. The burn in a good one is as powerful as a blizzard, as chilling as the winters back home in Minnesota. He could do with one right now, but maybe later. News of the Arendelles ranks higher than intoxication, at least for tonight.

Bunny sets the glass down on the table and takes a moment in inhale, washing down the bitter taste with foul-tasting air. "The eldest, Elsa," he says, pushing the meat of his palms against his blue eyes. "She's the unknown element in the family. Anna, we know about – she's in university, studying English. Good kid, if naïve. I doubt we'd have many problems if she were the one in charge. But Elsa…there's rumors she died years back, because no one has seen her in public since she was six. This is a complete blank."

"I wonder if she'll hold to the agreements we've made," Toothania muses. Her fingers anxiously twist her hair into a plait that snakes behind her ears, then shift to dislodge the child sprawled across her lap so she can gracefully rise to her feet and her unimpressive height of five feet. "I'll have to try to get in touch with the family..."

"Don't call Anders; from what Groundhog suggested, he's probably dead too," Bunny says warningly.

Toothania scowls and Sandy disappears back into the kitchen, probably to get her a whiskey of her own. Sandy's defense plan in the face of anger is to get everyone drunk, and then work out what to do on his own. Usually, it works, but they have never had to contend with something of this magnitude before. "So what do you want me to do? We've got to move on this fast. Besides the Royals, we're the biggest family in town, and Pitch has been after us for years."

"I keep saying we should bring the fight to them," Jack calls over from the couch, and Bunny and Toothania whip their heads to glare at him. "Don't give me those looks. He's been gathering weapons for months. It's not like we didn't know he was up to something big. The other families are nervous too, especially with the rumors that Pitch is going to join up with the Witch."

"You're the youngest-"

"But that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about." He would stand up, but that would show Bunny he is angry, so Jack decides to remain indolently draped across the couch. "There's been warning signs for months. Pitch is getting bolder. Remember the guns warehouse fire last month? Or the assassination of all those officials we trusted to look the other way. Not to mention the destruction of North's workshop." He does sit up more, his spine popping as he straightens. Showing Bunny he does not fear him is always important, but some respect would be for the best if he wants to get his point across. "We have to do something about this. The truce with the Royals is a start, but it's not enough. We have to drive Pitch out and reestablish ourselves as the top family."

Toothania and Bunny are eerily silent, which is something that is nerve wracking when they're in it together. They do not even glance at each other – Bunny stares at the whorls in the kitchen table, and Toothania at the window overlooking the busy streets, like she'll find the answer in the headlights of the cars going by below. Her street children's breathing is the only sound for a long moment.

The clink of Sandy setting down a glass and a couple bottles – one of whiskey and another vodka – on the table is abrupt enough that everyone startles. Sandy's smile is apologetic, and he gestures for Jack to come over, holding up the vodka for him to see.

He waves it off. "Not tonight, buddy." Sandy nods, and settles down into the chair besides Toothania. He has a bottle of pear cider in front of him, sweating in the heat.

Bunny snatches the whiskey bottle and pours himself a shot. His mouth works, as if the taste of the alcohol mixed with the words within him is fighting to get out. "…You do have some valid points there, I suppose."

Jack feels his eyebrows creep upwards. Bunny is capitulating surprisingly quickly. "…and?"

"But we don't know the full situation yet," Toothania continues, picking up the vodka and examining the label contemplatively. Vodka is not her thing, like whiskey isn't Bunny's – she prefers gin, or rum mixed with lime. But vodka works well enough for her in a pinch. Jack just hopes they have orange juice in the refrigerator; she always wants that by her second shot. "We should find out what exactly happened to the Arendelles, who the heir is – because Bunny's right, we're not even sure if Elsa is still alive – and then get North's input." She leans back in her chair and pulls one of the empty glasses towards her. From the quirk of her lips, Jack gathers that she is as disappointed with the inaction as he is. It has been a while since any of them got down and dirty with anything.

"Eleanor probably knows, the old busybody," Bunny offers. Sandy nods, and his hands fly again. Bunny clucks his tongue and snaps his fingers. "The Leprechaun, too. He owes me a favor – call it in for this. I was going to use it to get ahold of some decent rum, not some crappy moonshine, but what the hell."

"So…does that mean we're going to do anything about it tonight?" Jack glances at the bottles and the glasses, the way Sandy is chugging down his cider, and the look Bunny shoots at the whiskey, like he should just forget about the glass and take the bottle.

Toothania pours herself the first shot and swings it down without a wince. Jack knew there was a reason she's his favorite. "I'm going to call up our contacts and see if I can get the full story out," she says, getting to her feet and heading over towards their phone, slightly battered from when Bunny once threw it down the stairs during an argument with North. "Then, I am going to get properly drunk. Sandy and Bunny can explain to North what happened whenever he deigns to show up."

"What – don't make me explain this!" Bunny cries, aghast. "I had to tell you guys what was up; my part's done!"

Toothania pauses, her right hand on the phone, the other resting on the notebook where she keeps important details and numbers. Jack has never met another person with purple eyes besides her. He wonders if they all look as hard as crystals and as poisonous as belladonna as hers do. "Bunnymund," she says, her voice very even, "I am going to call up everyone and get the full story. Then I will drink at least half that bottle of vodka. Whenever North comes back, you will tell him what happened. If you don't, my Teeth will be quite happy to hide all of your lovely guns."

Scowling, Bunny settles back into his chair. "Witch."

"That would be Gothel's title, I'm just the Tooth Fairy," she says drily as she dials. "Hey Eleanor, it's Fairy. Do you know what happened with the Royals…"

Sandy, in his silent way, laughs into his drink, and Jack cracks a smile. Bunny, fuming, gives up on the glass and takes the bottle instead.

Toothania talks quietly on the phone for long enough that Jack's eyes slip shut and he is starting to drift off, lost in the pleasant haze where he can pretend he is at home in Minnesota in December, getting ready for Christmas, instead of in New York in July. Toothania slamming down the phone and letting out such a torrent of curses that the children wake up has him bolting upright, rubbing at his eyes. "…wazzup? Find out anythin'?"

"It was definitely Pitch," she growls, throwing herself back into her seat. Sandy doesn't bother with the niceites and just pushes the vodka into her hands. "Bastard. The Arendelles are most definitely dead, and Leprechuan said that there was black sand all over them."

Sandy hisses; one of the few sounds he has been able to make since Pitch claimed his tongue five years ago. Bunny's hand settles on his arm, but still he is so tense that Jack wouldn't be surprised if his muscles ache from the strain of it, come morning. Toothania just takes a deep swig from the bottle. Vodka dribbles down the side of her mouth and she doesn't bother to wipe at it as it drips onto her rainbow sweater.

"Anything else?" Jack asks, after a few moments go by.

"Yeah." Her voice is hoarse now, raspy and tired. "Elsa is alive and is taking over the family. Neither Eleanor nor the Leprechaun know much about her, but Hiccup said she's very quiet, very reserved. Unlike Anna, she's not very flighty, and is fairly logical. Sounds like she's the brains in the family. She'll most likely be more reasonable than Ulf and a bit more cautious than Matilda – she is new to this, after all, and doesn't know what to expect."

"Wait, how does that shrimp know she's alive if no one else did?" Jack demands, pushing himself up.

"His girlfriend Astrid used to work as a mercenary, and the Arendelles hired her from time to time. She was one of the candidates when the two girls were getting bodyguards," Toothania replies, rolling her eyes. Macho posturing; Jack seems intent on engaging Hiccup in it. Sad; he's a sweetheart. Sweeter than most in their business. She suspects he is only in it because of his father. She takes another drink. The burn is almost unpleasant, clawing at her throat, and she fights the urge to cough. Sandy notices – he notices everything – and gets up to slip into the kitchen. She hopes he's getting her the orange juice. "I'll have to call the Royals. We need that truce, especially if Jack is right-"

"Which I am."

"Shut up, Jack. If Jack is right and Pitch is gearing up for something big, we will need the Royals. They're more likely to help, especially now." Sandy comes scuttling back out of the kitchen, clutching the carton of orange juice. He sets it in front of her and she shoots him a grateful, strained smile. "Anyway, that about concludes it for tonight," she announces, splashing a generous amount of both juice and vodka into her glass. "I did all the work, so I'm going to get drunk now."

"I don't want to be the one to tell North all this," Bunny grouses, swirling the remainder of the whiskey around the bottle.

"Well, sucks to be you. I'm running merchandise this week; this is the only break I'm getting until Sunday, especially with this crisis. Now shut up, Bunny Rabbit."

"Tooth-"

"Sandy, make sure the children get fed," she orders, swinging her feet up on top of the table and crossing them at the ankle. "Jack, you're due at the docks for delivery at eight tomorrow."

"Dammit," he groans, settling back into the sagging couch, flopping his arms over his face. "Why eight? I'll have to get up at six to be there on time."

"And if you lose this delivery, I'm not going to defend you to North," Toothania adds. Jack groans again, louder, and falls sideways across the stained couch pillows. "Now all you shut up, I want to drink in peace. People died today and that's enough to earn me some alone time with this vodka."