Egil sits at his laptop in the library studying until you come in. He looks toward the door that has just opened, turns slightly pink in the face, and quickly looks back at his laptop. He tries to keep concentrating — in vain. He keeps catching himself looking across at you. He knocks his pen off the desk, catches it, and mutters,

Nervously, he pushes his glasses up on his nose, though they are already sitting very high up. He always does that when he is nervous. And you make him extremely nervous. Everything about you.

He struggles with himself, unsure whether he should finally go over to you and ask you if you would like to have a coffee with him.

After what feels like an age, he finally stands up and walks slowly over to you. His face goes redder and redder until he is finally standing in front of you and you look up at him.

He says to you:

After he has said that, he looks at you through the lenses of his glasses and adjusts them again.