"Me," Iman agrees, feeling very proud of herself indeed. Her narration is still going, trying furiously to keep up, more like a sports commentator than ever - but fuck it. She's not listening anymore. She pulls Greta closer, kissing her hard and fast before shifting them around - it's awkward, and the narration notes as such, but that's fine. She keeps a close grip on Greta's waist as she gets them into a more workable position, finally straddling her and leaning over, her hair hanging around them like a curtain.

"Keep doing that," she murmurs, shifting her hand to Greta's, guiding it back up her leg, before pressing in close again.