He called Grant at his own home number during his lunch break. “What are you doing?”

“Rearranging your apartment,” Grant replied. He smiled at the television screen where Micke’s old survivor tapes were playing. He couldn’t understand a word of it, but from the expressions of all the other people on the island Micke was scandalizing them just like always.

“What?” Micke replied, eyes going wide. His coworkers turned to look at him.

Grant snorted with laughter. “Just kidding, I’m watching TV.” Micke said something on the television that made everybody groan and roll their eyes, but a few seconds later he got a fire started without dry wood while everybody else just stood around uselessly emoting. One girl was even tearing her hair out. Grant guessed she hadn’t lasted long.

“Practicing your Swedish?”

“Javohl,” he replied distractedly when Micke whipped his shirt off onscreen and started scaling a nearly sheer cliff without a harness or hooks or anything. He was covered in sweat and grime and Grant was uncomfortably aroused.

“That’s German.”