Hans Larsson

Honesty between them would be painful and Rekker knew there was a razor edge. Lying made people leave and who he was did too. He'd rather be honest in the long run if the outcomes were the same. He let out a ragged, pained breath.

His gaze was still unfocused when his eyes drifted to Bjorn's face after hearing his name. He's panicking inside and everything is feeding into it. It sends a quake through him and his palms start to sweat again. He lets out a breath trying to focus as he straightens out one of his legs and tugs a little harder now that he is staring at the paler hand on his sun-freckled forearm and its ridiculously painted nails. A moment passes where he can't catch his breath, as if he is about to plunge into an ocean and he knows he can't swim.

"Come here." The words come out quiet, shaky, nervous, maybe even scared. Rekker has no idea what he's feeling, everything maybe? But the offer is there because he can see the Swede is in a bad high. Rekker has weathered far worse attacks than what he was in now but he's not sure the Swede will get through.