Edd exited Tom's room, intent on finally going to his own, but as he stepped down the hallway he heard... yelling?

With a confused and slightly alarmed frown he walked towards the guest room as the sounds got louder.

"-at was even the point of all this, Thomas! You could've also just- left me there! Would it have made a difference?! Jeg gir blanke faen!"

A sharp breath, "Tord-"

"What!" THUD

Edd tensed, "Alright, that's it..." he muttered and immediately opened the door to the room. The source of the loud noise became apparent as he took in Tord's hand wrapped forcefully around Thomas' bicep, the other one gripping his shirt to shove him back into the wall. Thomas may have been taller, but in this moment he seemed vulnerable even as Tord's presence seemed to grow beyond him. Edd shook himself, "What the hell are you doing?"

Thomas didn't move, but Tord immediately turned to look at him and, for just a moment, Edd could've sworn he saw genuine hatred in those raging eyes before the flaming haze seemed to fade as Tord kept staring at the man in the doorway.

He seemed almost dazed as he spoke, "What is..." he looked back at Thomas, mute and tense and making himself smaller in a bid for self-preservation, at his hands still clenched around an arm and the fabric of his shirt, and blinked. He blinked again.

He blinked a third time and his eyes widened, letting go of the the older man as if he'd been burned. "Shit! Faen- What the fuck-!" he stared as Thomas slid down the wall, not making a single sound, and stayed in a crumpled heap on the ground. "I'm... I don't..." His gaze moved to his hands, staring in incomprehension.

Edd took this all in with alarmed focus before stepping inside. He kept an eye on Tord as he carefully approached the blue clad man, kneeling beside him. It was hard to tell with the artificial display, but he seemed to be staring into nothing, limbs limp like a puppet with its strings cut. Edd tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but removed it when it resulted in a full-body flinch. Alright, no unsolicited touching, okay.

"Thomas. Thomas can you hear me?" barely a twitch of the cheek but better than nothing. "I'm going to touch your hand, is that okay?" He waited for a moment but there was no reaction so he abstained from any touch at all. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, "Bloody mother of-"

"What the fuck."

The two entirely cognizant men turned startled looks to the occupied doorway, where a still hungover Tom was visibly drawing conclusions. His empty gaze quickly roved over the three of them before focusing, razor sharp and burning, on a still frozen Tord. A growl escaped him as his scowl deepened, his countenance not at all alleviated by his raging headache.

"You fucker." Aggression, familiar from another iteration, roiled and writhed under his skin, something dark and heavy settling in his ribcage, right below his heart. Every step forward felt electrifying, charged with a tension that gave him sharp edges. His bones felt like knives, a constant pain, concealed and ready to cut their way out and through anything. Six steps in and he had the absolute bastard cornered, barely managing to redirect his hand to the man's collar instead of his stupidly fragile neck.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

"I don't- urk! Let me go, jehova!"

Tom's sockets narrowed dangerously as his grip on the man tightened, and Tord couldn't help but feel like a cornered animal. His hands scrabbled uselessly at Tom's fist and something in the back of his head was screaming bloody murder and he couldn't think he couldn't-

A snap, not heard but felt, reverberating through his skull.

An echo.

A misplacement.

Eyes dark, burning with contempt and arrogance, the gray of steel tempered by hellfire and soaked in the blood of a hundred lives.

"Let go of me, you fucking worm."

Tom stared, his grip slackening in something almost akin to shock. To what, he wasn't sure.

The burning eyes disappeared in the next second, however, a blink replacing them with something desperate and confused and angry. Familiar in a way that made Tom's own anger rush right back. His fist impacted with Tord's side and he had a moment of deep, dark satisfaction before Tord doubled over as much as he could in this position, wheezing as if he couldn't breathe in properly. Choking and sputtering in agony, eyes glazed over.

His brief confusion was dashed away when he looked down at the spot he'd hit. It was the epicenter of a rapidly growing bloodstain.

Well.

Shit.