Will, 1945

You could be under oxygenated, which isn’t a great thing, but not dead.

Could I be? I hadn't considered that.

We should head inside then.

I think that’s a good idea. It’s freezing out here.

Joy Division. We both know it’s Joy Division.

I think you're right. New Order is pretty great, but it's not the same without Ian. 

[brings his knees in to his chest, tucking his chin under until he’s nothing more than a ball, but then he groans again, sticking one of his legs out straight] Just leave me here to freeze, please. I don’t want to deal with this.

Will, if you don't let me help you up then I'm just going to be forced to sit down beside you and freeze to death with you. 

Why not both?

Alright, well uh -- here you go then.

I don’t look a day over nineteen. Thanks Will.

You're welcome, Ella.

[is curled up on the pavement, groaning] Fucking homophobes.

Need a hand up?

Twenty.

Happy birthday, Ella!

Was that sarcastic?

No, it is good. It gives me just enough time to find the perfect present for you.

I don’t know, you could definitely work the pink hair.

Really? I'd never really thought it would work with my complexion or whatever it is. 

It’s my birthday on the seventeenth.

Good to know.

How ‘bout that weather?

Fine. It's getting a bit warmer, I guess.