To say you'd been having a bad day was an understatement. Dying a glorious death? Tick. Absolutely traumatised from being thrown into the morning bloodbath that is the psycho Einherji wake up routine? Double tick. Sulking in a glorious, luxurious suite accustomed just to your particular liking? Triple tick.

Okay, maybe that last part wasn't too bad, but your situation still sucked. Big time.

You had nobody, and now were expected to die over and over again for the gods for all of eternity, or at least until Ragnarok comes around. It was an honour to be one of Odin's chosen warriors, but right now, it wasn't feeling like it.

You were mad and sad and confused. You didn't know what to do. You couldn't just sit here forever, but there was nowhere to go. This was your life now.

You were in the middle of absolutely destroying the pretty corner of your Valhalla chamber, throwing things around and ripping apart whatever you could find. Yeah, it might've been petty, but your tantrum was warranted.

You were alone. For good.

Until you heard a knock on the door. It didn't seem very polite or patient, but hey, who was?

"Open up or I'm letting myself in." A muffled voice from the other side of the wall threatened, and it sounded like one of the ones you'd had to cooperate with on the battlefield earlier. Alex, was it?

That made you even more mad.

In retaliation, you might've thrown around a few colourful insults, but would rather die twice over again than actually apologise for them. The one on the other side of the door groaned and muttered something, before attempting to try their introduction again.