Hans Larsson

His name has his eyes coming to the Swede, pupils fully dilated as he takes a few deep breaths. Even if he didn't always appear to, the Brit did have some self moderating techniques. He took his hands off the door behind him and there were sweat marks because his palms had gone clammy.

He crossed his arms staring at the Swede going as far away as possible. Things were trying to crash in and he distracted himself by focusing on which button he needed to push so the elevator would move.

The Swedish gets another look while he wonders what the hell it means, probably an insult but his eyes drop to his phone still on the floor in the middle of the elevator. He lets out an amused and almost snorted sigh, of course this was his luck.

"Who cursed me?" His eyes on the swede waiting for another fight to break out, even if Rekker is in no mood right now. He has things to do. "Are you going to be everywhere I end up in LA?"