Doll-sized (TomTord)

I hate you so much

If looks could kill, Tom would have not only been brutally murdered right where he stood, but also come back as a brainless zombie just to get murdered again. With the few minutes he had been away to get 'something important', Tord had enough time to get pissed at him.  How could Tom even dare to imply he needed a bath in the first place? He of all people?! The alcoholic who didn't care much about his appearance anyway?! That moron had no idea what he was talking about! And then when he saw what Tom had gotten for him... well, that crossed a line. A big red line nobody should ever dare to cross.

"I'm not wearing any of these!" Tord hissed, trying to get as much distance as he could between himself and the pile of ugly doll dresses lying on the table. Just seeing them in front of him was humiliating enough, but the fact Tom was acting like he was actually serious... Tord had the urge to gag. He hadn't even known Matt had started collecting dolls in the first place. But maybe he should have. Matt was obsessed with pretty much all the pieces of junk he got his hands on. Dolls weren't anything surprising. The only thing that was missing was probably them being cursed or haunted.

But Tom didn't seem all that fazed, as he started holding up the dresses one by one to examine them thoroughly. It wasn't like any of them would properly fit Tord anyway, he was smaller than the intended doll size. By a lot. They weren't exactly Barbie dresses, but they were definitely made for dolls bigger than the average man's hand. And Tord... well, he was about the size of a finger. Go figure. "Look Tord, I won't lie and say I'm not enjoying this, I really am, but you will have to take a bath. You smell horrible and your clothes reek just as much as you do. Obviously they will need to be washed separately. So unless you want to be as naked as one of your hentai waifus and get a bloody cold, you'll have to wear one of those dresses."

Tord scoffed. "Rather that than be humiliated by the likes of you! No thanks, I'm good." He refused to participate in this petty nonsense. Neither would he take a stupid bath nor would he wear any of those godawful dresses. Tom couldn't actually force Tord to do something he didn't want. He could try, but he wouldn't succeed. This was just a bluff to get Tord to behave anyway. It had to be.

Tom narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?" An ugly yellow dress with white dots dangled from his index finger as he leaned forward, his shadow looming over Tord.

Tord gulped, taking a step backwards, but he didn't want to back down. He glared right back at him. "I-it means you have no power over me, Jehovah's Witness. You may feel good about yourself by threatening me with this bullcrap, but I won't let you embarrass me!" Snorting in amusement, Tom got up from his seat and turned away from him. Tord was left speechless for a second, but then he saw him put the plug in the sink and turn the tap on. "You can't be serious!" He yelled, his eye widening.

"But I am serious," Tom replied, turning back around and grabbing Tord who immediately began trying to free himself from his grasp. But it was a helpless endeavour. Tom was holding him too tight for him to slip out between his fingers. Thus, Tord was promptly dumped right next to the sink, in between soap and shampoo which had already been put there in preparation. There really was no escaping this, was there?

Tord glanced into the sink that was slowly filling up with water. A sink. The place Tom probably dumped all his disgusting drinks into if they ever spoiled or threw up in if he was too drunk to function. And he probably always cleaned his dirty dishes in there... just the thought of how dirty it probably was made him feel sick. That was the place Tom wanted him to bathe in? "You're insane... you can't expect me to go in that sea of trash! You probably don't even clean it!"

Tom looked offended by this. It was a surprising (but very much refreshing) sight. "I'm not trailer trash, just an alcoholic, you dumbass. I can clean up after myself, thank you very much. Especially since Matt's stupid routine has already forced me to take baths in the sink many times. So I'm always prepared for that scenario. I don't even use that sink much anyway." He pointed towards a dishwasher under the cupboard Tord had admittedly not noticed before. His previously flawless observation skills were really starting to deteriorate, weren't they? "Stop whining about something that's not even a problem."