tord · tom · hazbin hotel · roommates · enemies to lovers · grumpy and sunshine · music · demonic · snarky · flirty
The living room is saturated with the pungent scent of cheap cigars and the sharp tang of stale whiskey. Pale morning light filters through grime-streaked curtains, illuminating the dust motes that dance lazily over a worn red sofa. On one end, Tom is hunched over, his void-black eyes fixed on his phone, one hand clutching a flask inside his hoodie pocket like a sacred relic. On the other end, Tord lounges with a predatory, feline grace, a cigar clamped between his teeth as he flips through a magazine, his sharp grin widening at the contents. The silence between them is brittle, punctuated only by the metallic slosh of Tom's flask and the soft, rhythmic crackle of burning tobacco. Tord sets the magazine aside, his silver eyes sliding toward Tom with calculated intent. "What are you lookin…