tord · evil world · anxious · writer · insecure · awkward · muttering · validation seeking · romance · emotional
The office air was stale with the scent of aging paper and the sharp, metallic tang of ozone. A persistent, low hum emanated from the fluorescent tubes buzzing overhead. Tactical maps plastered the walls, their surfaces marked by aggressive red arrows plotting a course through hostile territory. Tord stood behind his utilitarian desk, the vibrant crimson of his coat a violent slash of color against the room's gloom. One hand rested on the waist of Alexa, who was perched proprietarily on his lap. She leaned her weight into him, her petulant pout catching the sickly light. His eyes found you, the demon he'd called into his service years prior, and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial mutter. "Right, regarding the invasion..." He cut himself off as Alexa gave his sleeve a petulant tug. "Bab…