"So, Russia is still being as persistent as ever, hm?" Tord said, looking across his messy desk slyly.
"Well, yeah, what did you expect? They're Russian." Tom joked, crossing one leg over the other. He began clicking around on his tablet for the stats: at the current time, Russia was putting up a fair fight against Red Leader's troops down East.
"Hah, funny," Tord murmured under his breath, crossing his fingers under his chin. "We'll have to find a countermeasure then, isnt that right tom?"
"Certainly Sir. I would recommend striking some sort of deal that would lead to you sharing the land with the russian president."
"You say that so confidently tom, but do keep in mind that russia's president - what was his name? - has been a winning candidate for longer you've been alive. Do you really think he's going to give all of that up?" Tord crossed his arms and leant back into his chair, a smug gleam in his left eye.
"So you have a better idea, then?" Tom placed his tablet on the desk, mimicing tord's actions. (All the while ignoring his superiors exaggerations.)
"Well, I suppose you could say that..."
"And why didnt you say this earlier?" Tom raised his digital eyebrow, fed up with his friend's antics. Tord had a habit of dodging his true intent to build up a (and I quote) "dramatic build up". Tom was almost always left unimpressed.
"To see if you were smart enough to figure it out yourself, obviously!" Tord said excitedly. "But no, you're still your classic, stupid self..."
"I can't believe you, tord," tom put his face in his hands, resisting the urge to break his tablet over his forehead. "I cannot stand you sometimes."
"Yeah, and that's what makes it fun!" Tord stood up suddly, the wheels on his chair rolling back to hit the wall. "Now, book a meeting with him for.. whenever I'm next free. Preferably before next week, move meetings around if you have to."
Tom reluctantly plucked his tablet back from the oak desk and began to type.
"Hmm,,, is 18:30 friday okay? We'll set the flights on thursday and saturday."
"Sounds like a plan!" Tord began to walk out of the office, and with a flick of his robotic wrist, tom was scrambling out of his chair to follow him.
"Oh yeah, Tom, I have another huge favour to ask of you." Tord grinned, halfway down the hall to the medical wing.
"You say that as if I could deny, Sir." Tom rolled his eyes.
"Well, technically you could, but I don't believe Paul nor Patryck would be up for the job."
At this statement, Toms eyebrows quirked. There wasn't usually a job specifically for him (even Tom and his dumb assistant job were easily replaceable) so this one certainly peaked his interest.
"And what would this job be?" Tom queried. He knew it wouldn't be too long of a mission, because the flights to Moscow were only a few days away.
The two came to a halt once they reached the medical wing.
"I'm going to need one of your molars."
**
"Tom, hurry up! you'll upset Tord- Sorry, no- Red Leader if you dont get your ass in gear and on that plane!" Paul yelled at an extortionately numb tom.
"Uh. Yeah. Are you sure it's okay for me to fly?" The aforementioned man slurred. His mouth was numb with pain and the block where his tooth should be wasn't helping.
"Well duh, its not like you had any anesthesia. Now come on-!" Paul shoved tom up the stairs to board the plane. Tom noted the signature "Red leader symbol" on it's body, and prayed to god nobody would try and shoot it down.
Tom drgged his feet into the planes middle, scanning his digital eyes around lazily to find Tord. His private aeroplane was suprsingly small, but the four seats on the left side looked comfy all the same.
Tom slid into the double seat opposite Tord and glared at him fron across the table. Tord was squirming, slightly hunched over.
"What are you anxious about? You're just going to sit there and talk."
"God, it's not that, you dumbass," tord sneered. Maybe tom shouldnt have said anything. "You of all people should know I hate flying."
"And why's that?"
"Like I'd ever tell you."
"Aren't communists meant to share?"
"Yeah, I'd rather tell a christian than a Jehova's Witness. at least they won't go around telling everyone at their doorsteps."
After that, the pairs violent stares turned into barely muffled smiles and laughs. the insults reminded the two of times before everything was too complicated, when the things they had to worry about were petty. (Comparison to what Tom's most recent job was though).
Sometime l8r lol
The two sat in the private taxi, one of putins subordinates driving them from their (overly fancy) hotel to the (russian version of white house/downton abbey).
"Mmm, Tom?" Tord interrupted tom. Tom, being who he is, took slight offense to that.
"What, Tord?"
"When did you start rolling your "r"'s?"
GASP an unfinished story? being POSTED? well yeah im not in the eddsworld fandom rn but ill probably get swooped back up in it when updates r more frequent
