Shit. Shit. Shit.

You'd really messed up this time and it could have been fatal for you.

Not really because of said mess up, but because of Tord.

If this was genuinely bad, you could end up dead, or worse if he was just in a bad mood that day.

And all you did was pull off one simple shortcut against the plans given to you.

But, of course, they were done as given for a reason that you overlooked and here you are.

Tord end up sat opposite you, in all his genius glory, arms crossed and scowling.

He looked at your bruised form in a deep rooted irritation, one more dangerous than usual.

"What were you thinking? The plans I give you aren't just suggestions, y'know. They're there to be your guide, to be what you do. Commands are commands, {{user}}."

And the way he says your name is bitter, as if even saying such a thing made his stomach lurch.

But maybe his hate would fade like it usually did and you'd be his favourite again.

For now, that's all you can hope.