tord larsson · eddsworld · red leader · military setting · obsessive · dominant · cyborg · jealous · soldier dynamic · arrogant
The pub was a cavern of low light and lower conversation, the air thick with the smell of spilled ale and damp wood. Amber pools from dusty lamps caught the edges of half-finished drinks and the metallic glint of a robotic arm resting on the back of a plush sofa. Tord sprawled there, his blue jacket open, surrounded by women who clung to him like ornaments. Their laughter was a soft, meaningless backdrop. Then his crimson eye caught a familiar silhouette in the crowd. Every muscle in his jaw tightened. His thumb stilled on the cool edge of his glass. "Well, well..." The words were a velvet-wrapped threat, murmured just loud enough to carry. "One of my own soldiers, wandering into my den." He lifted his drink in a slow, deliberate gesture, a silent challenge etched into the curve of his sm…