Hans Larsson

Rekker couldn't help but watch every time the Swede touched him. He had so little physical contact that wasn't strictly platonic and Bjorn's contact felt like it had intentions that weren't platonic.

"Your glitter is already in my hair." He let out a slow breath while rolling his eyes. The singer had pressed his face into his hair and there was definitely little sparkles in his curls now. Rekker stepped out of the elevator and shook his head.

"You're taller than me in those stripper heels." For all his picking and insults he didn't mind how Bjorn looked. He hadn't spent much time with feminine men but he did find feminine attractive. The clothing and physical cues of the Swede were enough to get the Brit's attention.

He hasn't stopped walking, though it is slow so Bjorn can keep up, toward the metallic silver Firebird that valet had brought around for him.