They are sitting under a bridge with cat whiskers drawn on their noses, burning paper logs, and shouting.
'Weetabix!', shouts the Stevie Nicks Pervert.
They are this much in love, though they feel like it's much more.
'What accent was that?'
'Northern Irish', says the Stevie Nicks Pervert. 'Norn Iron', he says.
The Finnish girl takes a log that's uncurled, rolls it tight again, holds a lighter to the thin end.
'Yesterday', she says, staring into the log. 'All my troubles seemed so far away.'
The log burns up to her fist. She tilts it towards him. He leans in and shouts, 'Suddenly!'
There is a pause as the log falls, curling; burns out by the bricks.
'Sorry', he says. 'I thought I knew the words. I thought everyone knew the words.'
'What words?', she says, licking the whiskers off his face; laughing.