'Don't you like it?'

She stops, lets go of her friend's hand.

'Yes, I do.'

'You can keep it.'

'Thank you.'

She curtseys.

That's rare these days. Girls did things like that in the past, but not now. Everybody is equal these days, meant to be anyway, so no curtseys to anyone. Nobody bows properly either.

The brunette has been silent for much longer than she's used to. Now she grabs hold of the slightly plump blonde's hand, hard. She tugs at it and both of them stumble.

'Come on, let's go now. He's just a crappy cap-man.'

The slightly plump blonde turns to the brunette and then to him, looks back at her friend; obviously she's feeling stroppy.

'Hang on. We'll go soon.'

The brunette speaks more loudly.

'No, now. Right away.'

Then she turns to him, pulling at her long ponytail.

'And that cap's ugly. Like, it's the ugliest ever.'

She points at the cap, then jabs it with her finger.

An animal. A cat. A dead cat? They're nine, at most ten years old. A cat should be fine.

'You never said what you were training at.'

The brunette looks accusingly at him with her hands on her hips, she's like an old woman in a bad mood. He faced one once, in Säter secure that first time; she was a nosy bitch hammering on about Reform. Change. He can't change. He doesn't want to change. He is who he is.

'Gymnastics. We've been training gym. We do it lots, all the time. We're off now.'

They walk away, the dark-haired girl in the lead, the slightly plump blonde one following, less confidently. He watches their backs, sees their backs naked, bums naked, feet naked.

He goes after them quickly, passes them and stops, holding up his hands.

'What are you doing, crappy cap-man?'

'Where?'

'Where what?'

'Where do you train?'