[Soren manages to catch Emil before he can hand the jacket back, telling him to stop pitying his past self. The other young man has a point, and Emil's cheeks burn a little with embarrassment over being caught feeling sorry for himself like that. Sure, he loudly complains a lot, but he's used to people brushing it off, and usually it isn't so...raw. He doesn't feel so vulnerable when he's yelling about his discomfort.]

Yeah, yeah, okay right. And yeah, we speak different languages, back home. I speak Swedish, obviously. He speaks Finnish. We're finally starting to learn to talk to each other now, or, well before I left. But back then, we couldn't understand each other at all. It was all, you know, body language and actions and how we looked at each other and stuff. He's pretty good at making himself understood.

[Emil watches as that past version of himself drags Lalli through the snow, and finally slams a door open with his shoulder, pulling Lalli inside. Reaching out, he tugs lightly at Soren's sleeve.]

Come on. There'll be a nice big fire in there in a few minutes.