The Traitor and The Communist

As Casual As Ever

Song- I don't know me like you do by: low hum

Tord taps his foot from side to side, careful to not hit his knee off the underside of Edd's kitchen table. He feels his phone go off in his pocket and tries to ignore it and focus on Matt's story as much as possible.
"Next thing I know the lead makeup artist is coming around the corner, and I can't let her see the broken lid on the eyeshadow, so what else could I do besides hide it behind my back!" Matt threw his arms into the air for dramatic effect.

The phone goes off again, Tord closes his eyes and thanks his past self for bothering to put it on silent.

Matt continues his story, causing Edd to be even more completely engulfed in it, watching Matt as if he's the only thing that exists.

Tom turns his head in Tord's direction slightly. He raises an eyebrow asking a silent question.

Quietly Tord scoffs and waves Tom off, he points to himself and gives the thumbs up. Tom nods, his eyebrows knit together. With one turn of his head it appears Tom's attention is back on Matt. The phone buzzes again, causing Tord to feel like kicking himself in the teeth for not just leaving it back at his own apartment.

Tord excuses himself and tries to make it to the bathroom as nonchalantly as possible. Which was quite the feat considering his phone was complaining with the same strength akin to having a heart attack; with how much it was going off in his blue jeans pocket. Tom watched Tord leave, his lips were still tightly pulled back, and his eyebrows were scrunched up together.

_
With a resonating click the bathroom door locked behind Tord. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and checked the new notifications. It only took one look at how many messages there were to leave Tord's mouth dry.

The wall of notifications just kept scrolling and scrolling, most of them now pictures. Some were still just asking for a meeting, others however have seemed to change strategies. As Tord skimmed them those particular ones caught his eye. The messages were now starting to threaten Tom, Matt and Edd.

They wouldn't. Would they? Tord thinks to himself as he reads through some of the more outrageous threats. Some threatened to get them fired, or kicked out of the apartment complex. The most scummy ones though, those ones threatened to cause actual physical harm to the group of friends. Tord's hand shook, warning that he would drop his phone if not careful. A painful pinching feeling rippled through his head. With little care, the phone was crammed back into his pocket, Tord's other hand holding his forehead.

"Shit." Tord uttered under his breath as he briskly walked up to the sink. He turned it on, once again finding himself washing his face off with a series of splashes in Edd's bathroom sink. A thought passes through Tord's brain as the phone goes off in his pocket for what felt like the hundredth time, The Neapolitan complexes on these assholes. He jokes dryly to himself.

Tord looks up in the mirror and pulls at the bags under his eyes, he's taken aback at the sight. They haven't been this dark in, a while. He pulls at his hair to fix it some after getting water in it, the action helped a little bit as his gel was threatening to move his spikes.

His phone goes off and instantly Tord groans in frustration. Carefully, he lets his forehead hit the mirror attached to Edd's medicine cabinet. With the level headedness of someone whom has been poked relentlessly with a stick all month, Tord grabs his phone out of his pocket. He unlocks it and starts rapid fire deleting messages from unknown numbers.

Once there was next to none he sent out a text of his own. 'They're getting more worked up, and I don't know what to do anymore. -Tord'. He doesn't bother putting his phone back in his pocket. With a click the bathroom door is unlocked and Tord finds his way back to the table, avoiding cat toys so he didn't slip and break an arm or something as equally stupid.