The icelander. Reynir. Emil didn't like him. Emil's first impression of Reynir was fear. No wonder, who would expect finding a person in what was supposed to be a crate of food? Then Sigrun ordered him to keep a close eye on him. Which he did. You do not disobey the Sigrun.
"He's still not our prisoner."
Emil had made a mortal enemy right then and there. He looked at Reynir, who was currently chatting away with Tuuri in Icelandic. They were probably talking about him, about how stupid he was. No, Emil did not like Reynir. But the mortal enemy-part wasn't the only reason for that.
He threw a glance in Lalli's direction and noticed how his friend kept a close eye on the Icelander, ready to leave if the other would turn in his direction. Emil smiled. That was the reason he didn't like the Icelander. Reynir behaved way to familiar with Emil's best friend and not in a way that said friend even liked. For now it had only been short interctions, and they had ended as quick as they begun, but every time Emil saw it happening he was ready to leap to Lalli's defense.
He still wanted the icelander to like him though, it was in his blood. He wanted people to like him. Emil pulled a hand through his hair, making the air around him sparkle and Reynir looked in his direction, said something to Tuuri. Tuuri only smiled and continued the conversation after throwing a glance at Emil. Emil let out a sigh. There they went talking about him again. If only he could understand them. Why couldn't everyone just learn Swedish?
Well, fine. Emil got up and went inside the tank. If the icelander wanted to be his mortal enemy, so be it. He pulled his fingers through his hair again, grabbed his belt with explosives and tied it around his waist. He would take care of his mortal enemy one day, but for the moment it was time to get looting.