Lauren nodded. “Yeah, I meant like nice waiters. I miss those. And having food brought to me. Call me pretentious or whatever, but it felt wonderful.” Her whole face lit up when he confirmed her suspicion. She’d never met another Swede in the camp, and she’d just now realised how wonderful it was! “It isn’t, actually,” she said, her smile stretching from one ear to the other. “Ja! Takes one to know one, I suppose.”
“Th--,” he started, though a forceful breath escaped him instead of the rest of his sentence. Gus wanted to reply to everything the woman had said, but suddenly found it nearly impossible; he seemed almost beside himself, squirming in his seat as if the astonishment and happiness that broke out on his face couldn’t keep him still no matter how much he fought for it. “You’re--,” he started again, though this time also cut himself off. A painful kind of longing nestled itself into his chest; there she was, another tangible evidence of what he had, some ten years prior, called home, and Gus seemed almost overwhelmed with nostalgia. “Jag har inte pratat svenska med en annan person på så länge,” he said softly after a moment, looking like he was about to get out of his seat, eyes fixed on the woman. A gentle half-chuckle escaped him, and he finally relaxed. “Allvarligt -- så länge!”
