[Timo swears, but his hands are too full of mugs, carefully held by the handle so he won't burn.] I'm so sorry! Ah, let me... [Giving up, he just puts the coffee down on the grass, hoping that it won't spill. He forms a loose bullet between his hands and fires it at the grass before scooping it up and pressing it to the outside of his clothes to counteract the burn.] Sorry, Nalle. Are you all right?
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