Pack [Eddsworld]

CHAPTER TWELVE

Troxy definitely wasn't a place Tord would be welcomed in normally. From the moment he walked through the doors with Ylva by his side, he could tell by the shiny, granite flooring and the gold accents around the room that this was pretty expensive.

It was only the reception area, too.

The buzz of people talking should have been comforting, but it only made his stomach twist with nerves: any one of those people could be the spy for Burning Tygers. He approached the lady at the front desk with a fake smile, his fingers clamped firmly around Ylva's hand for comfort; she lightly squeezed back, not even sparing a glance at him. Her face seemed quite pale, but he didn't have enough time to work out whether it was just the lights as the receptionist spoke up.

"Hi, how may we help you today?" She barely took her eyes off the screen as she typed away.

"Uh..." Tord cleared his throat and raised the pitch of his tone, silently hoping that his voice wouldn't crack. "We're here to see...?"

"The music act of tonight: Lavender Moon." Ylva chipped in hastily, a faint wobble in her words as she spoke.

"Ah, yes." The receptionist looked up and blinked at the Norwegian girl, her expression flickering from blank to welcoming. "If you go through the door on your right, you can visit the bar first. Follow the corridor and you should find yourself in the main venue. The band will be on stage shortly."

"Thank you, ma'am." Tord finished, linking arms with Ylva and stepping off towards the bar. When they were out of earshot, he hissed to his companion, "Do we not need to pay?"

A momentary look of alarm ghosted across her features before she shrugged, placing her hand on the bar counter. "Guess not. They must be really friendly here."

"What can I get you tonight, ladies?" The barkeep practically glided over to them, ushering away his previous customers with a smile.

"Something strong, please." Ylva placed her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hands, letting out a stressed sigh.

"And for you?"

"Uh..." He was so preoccupied with staring worriedly at Ylva that his brain wouldn't work. "...Smirnoff?"

"Coming right up!" The bartender's eyes rested on Tord for just a moment too long before he turned around, body angled in such a way that neither person could see what he was doing. He spun back around and slid a large glass of something across the counter to Ylva. "Ginger Yule. Quite bittersweet, and definitely rather strong."

Ylva dipped her head down and tipped the glass to her lips, taking only the tiniest of sips of the cloudy liquid. "It's good; thanks."

"And Smirnoff for you." He placed the glass in front of Tord a little roughly, the smile still playing on his lips.

"Thanks..." Tord meekly took the drink, not entirely sure why he chose the favourite beverage of his alcoholic friend.

He turned back around, placing some dirty glasses underneath the counter to be washed later. "Hurry now, the show's just about to start."

Tord was ready to leave immediately, but Ylva slightly touched his hand. He glanced down and then locked eyes with her, slightly confused.

She passed him her drink and smoothed a tuft of hair down on his head. "I need to go to the toilet. You go on ahead and I'll meet you there."

He had no chance to argue: she'd already whisked away, back the way they came. Tord shook his head and told himself to man up boldly turning around and heading off towards the stage. It wasn't as if he was weak; he had been training for most of his life so he could fight in surprise situations, but without Ylva by his side he felt a lot more vulnerable.

There were many people stood up and talking with one another. Tord managed to successfully weave his way between each of the groups to stand closer to the black stage, scooting off to one side so he could be close to a fire escape if anything went wrong. After a few minutes, there was still no sign of his ginger soldier, and he was starting to grow even more nervous with every passing second. He placed their drinks down on a protruding surface next to the door, stupidly looking directly into the spotlights as he did so and temporarily blinding himself.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he instantly flinched back, grabbing the person's wrist as he blinked rapidly. He glanced up and noticed the familiar face, internally sighing with relief and releasing her from his grip. Ylva let her arm drop back to her side, not quite meeting his eyes.

Tord noticed what looked like a corner of a piece of paper poking out from the top of her black dress, presumably tucked into her bra for safekeeping as she had no pockets. She noticed him staring and cleared her throat, attempting to subtly push the paper down so it was completely concealed.

"So... Lavender Moon is on in a few minutes..." Ylva had never sounded so uncomfortable, "how about we dance together?"

"We need to keep on high alert, though." Tord pointed out as his narrowed eyes roamed the crowds, hoping for a glimpse of the leaders of the Burning Tygers.

"Of course, but it's better if we blend in... And stick together at all times." She clasped her fingers around his upper arm protectively, staring at him with such fire in her azure eyes that he was awestruck.

He wasn't stupid: he knew there was something going on with her; but as the band started playing soft music and she guided him into the middle of the room, he didn't care about what she was hiding. Tord had never truly been in love before; he had only had lustful relationships when he was younger, accompanied by many one-night stands with girls of various levels of attractiveness. Love was something he didn't believe in, because his leadership always came first.

Yet here he was, his hands resting on Ylva's waist as they slow-danced on the spot, never once looking away from her even as she turned her head to glance around.

He definitely adored the impressive curves on her body, but that wasn't the only thing he liked about her. He loved that she had spent the time to straighten her wild curls of bright ginger hair, even though she hated doing so. He loved that she went the extra mile and took more care while applying her make-up, even if she looked beautiful without it. He loved the way she carried herself with such confidence, even in dangerous situations. Tord knew it couldn't have been a worse time to realise he loved her, but he couldn't help himself.

The perfect moment was over all too quickly.

"Over there," she whispered to him, slightly nodding her head towards the other side of the room. "It's them."

There were seats set at the base of the ornate gold railings that separated the upper level from the lower one, placed between two sets of stairs. On those seats sat the four people they had been both expecting and dressing. Bella was in the middle, wearing knee-high leather boots with high heels, one leg folded over the other. Anthony was settled to her right, wearing a black jacket and looking off to one side, a disinterested look on his face. James was to Bella's left, his arms crossed and a wig of dark hair covering his bald head. The fourth man was next to him, arms draped over the back of the seats with a bottle of alcohol in his loose grasp.

Bella glanced over in Tord's direction, her dark eyes full of suspicion. He instinctively pulled Ylva closer to him, letting the palm of his hand settle in the small of her back. They kept dancing.

The leader clicked her fingers and pointed to the pair, both Anthony and James looking over and clenching their jaws. She casually got to her feet in a manner that implied she had all the time in the world, her two lackeys mimicking her actions. The unknown guy stayed seated, taking a gulp of alcohol and gazing dully at Tord and Ylva.

"We should go." Ylva said to her dance partner in a hushed voice, a note of urgency laced in her tone as she started to pull him away.

"We could take them." Tord glared at the approaching trio, resisting the ginger's tug and clenching his hand into a fist.

"No, we couldn't. They have people set up everywhere to fight for them in the event of an ambush." She placed her gloved hand on the scarred side of his face and forced him to look at her. "We need to go. Now."

~

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