Rikard, he said his name was.
"Oh my God, what a nice sweater" he says as he rubs the wool of my sweater between his finger and thumb. "Is it real wool?"
"How Northern Norwegian"
(It was a Swedish brand actually and I had bought last time I was in Oslo.)
"Yeah, it really saved me up in Tromsø"
He edged closer. I'm not sure if I was giving off the right vibes. I sit up straight, like an autistic plank to signal that I was not interested.
"Oh, it must have been so..." he hits me with a dirty look "... rough up there."
Oh. My. Days.
"Um... I guess so, at least you guys have summers down here"
"Oh you'll love Oslo in the summer. It's raining a bit now but you know, when the sun comes out everyone comes alive. Everyone is just so ready to fuck, you know?"
I didn't know.
I felt like it was time to extricate myself. Bjørn still seemed to be ignoring me but it was his place I was staying at so that pissed me off somewhat. I said thanks to Rikard and he swivelled on his ass and jumped into another conversation without skipping a beat.