"Maybe I haven't. I can't fucking help it when a hot ginger is standing up close to me with his fucking shirt off."

Bjorn was beginning to get hot himself as his mind began racing at the possibility of actually kissing this grouchy bastard. That and touching that long hair of his again. As for anything else that just got the singer internally panting at the very idea. The Brit was hot as fuck.

"Aw, you can't? Why? Does it blow up or some shit? Why don't they make them for two hot guys to have fun inside them?"

The Swede pouted and put both hands on his hips while watching Rekker step back into the bedroom. Was he taking meds? Poor guy. The singer felt bad for the Brit because his life was ruled by his health condition. What could he do? Not wanting to interfere, Bjorn hung back just eyeing up the hot tub.