Kaija walked over and poked Karl's cheek.
No reaction.
She pinched his nose shut.
Still no reaction.
His mouth merely parted a little wider, drawing in air through his lips as if his body had automatically found an alternative route.
Kaija stared at him in disbelief.
'Is he actually dead?'
Her frustration immediately shot through the roof.
With a long, exhausted sigh, she decided to leave him where he was and head to bed herself.
As she straightened and turned away, a hand suddenly shot upward, wrapped around her wrist, and yanked.
The world spun.
A startled squeak escaped her throat before she landed on the couch, trapped between Karl's arms and legs like a particularly expensive body pillow.
"What the actual fuck, Karl Hanski?!" she squealed, twisting frantically in an attempt to free herself.
Unfortunately, his limbs weren't merely long. They were absurdly heavy.
For someone built so lean, the man felt like he was made entirely of steel and stubbornness.
