Hans Larsson

"What?" Even in the panic that word sounds like not a word, then he noticed how high the singer was by his behavior.

Bjorn was staying here too? Rekker took one hand and rubbed his face and pushed his hair back out of his face. He was cursed and nothing the Swede said could convince him otherwise. He loathed this Swede, thought the Swede hated his guts and yet.. he paused glancing up at the numbers which were close to one by now.

"My brother invited me last night. I was going to go home and take care of... some things." He figured this pansy would bolt if he said why he was going home even if the elevator meant there was no escape at this specific moment. Finally, he reached down and picked up his phone, instantly having to use his free hand to wrestle all the curls and hair back again.