"I didn't say I want you to go," she says, exasperated. "You're drunk and weird and I'm kind of worried about you and your dick is probably pretty good but I don't exactly have much to compare it with so I'm really not the best to ask about that. I just want to talk, gods. Is that so hard?"

Ylva reaches to grab him by the arm, an attempt to hold him in place. "You're not alone here, are you?"