(3rd Person)

"Hi, father." Tom mutters quietly, standing in front of his father's wooden desk with his hands folded in front of him. Tom took mental notes when he entered the study, noticing the bookshelves filled with thick, leather-bound books. Most of the books were encyclopedias, other books of that kind, and religious bibles. Not just catholic or christian, also satanic and pagan. Many different books on many different religions.

"Thomas," His father greets with a nod, the ceiling light gleaming off of his glasses. Theodore Riviera was his name, one that Tom never wanted to think about again. And yet, here he was.
"Lets get to the point, I have a request for you." His father says, looking at Tom with a cold, calculated look.
"Yes?" Tom asks, dreading the response.

"You have to help the...'family business' one way or another, so I'm asking you to lure some of the more powerful men in the area. Use your...femininity to bring them in. We'll get more territory, then we can control everything from there." Theodore explains vaguely, drumming his thick fingers on the polished wood surface of his desk. Tom nods, trying not to let panic take over his senses. He hated doing this type of work, it made him feel disgusting. Like some dirty, broke person who had nowhere else to go, and no other options.
"Do you understand?" His father asks, giving Tom a stern look.

Not being able to say anything else, Tom nods again.
"Yes, father." He mumbles, awaiting the signal to leave.
"Good, I'll call you again when you're needed." Theodore says, waving Tom off. Tom bows his head slightly before leaving the room with a pit at the bottom of his stomach.

As soon as he closed the door, he practically runs away from the study and bursts into his brothers' room. Tim and Scribs has to share a room seeing as Scribs needed someone to watch and prevent him from going out and murdering someone without supervision.
"AAAH—" Tom screeches before jumping on top of Timothy.

"FUC-" Tim gets knocked back into the bed from Tom's tackle, immediately shoving the pastel-loving brother off. "What the fuck, Tom?!" Tim coughs, glaring down at the fallen brother. Tom whines into the floor, Scribs shrieking with laughter. As Tom curls up the slightest, he tries to think of some way to explain his situation. Scribs wheezes in the background, struggling to breathe from laughter.
"h3 fUck1Ng t4cKl3d y0U- h0Ly sH1t—" Scribs manages to spat out from his breathlessness, falling into another bout of giggles.

"Jesus- What the hell's wrong with you?!" Tim shouts.
"Timmyy...heeelp..." Tom whines. "Padre's trying to make me do thiiingss..." He drags out, muffled and with a groan.
"What is it?" Tim asks with a roll of the eye sockets.
"He's wants me to do that gross 'luring' thing he made Tammy do..." Tom explains with a wince, remembering the unfortunately intimate moves his cousin had to go through.
"3W," Scribs comments, sticking his tongue out with a disgusted face.

"Well, you have to do it, bro. No choice if Pops is the one giving the orders." Tim says casually with a shrug of the shoulders. Tom let out a sigh.
"h3'5 n0T l00K1Ng f0Rw4Rd t0 4Ct1nG l1K3 4 5Lut.." Scribs says with a frown. "1 w0UldN't 31tH3R..." He mumbles, falling backwards and onto the floor.
"Scribsie, watch your language. You're still a minor."
"4Nd tH4t 5T0p5 m3 h0W?" Tom sighs again.

"Never mind,"

—————

Edd stood restlessly at Tom's door, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. With a nervous sweat starting to form, Edd gulps and brings a hand up to knock at the door. Knocking once, twice, three times, Edd backs up from the door, anxiously waiting for an answer.

Nothing.
No opening of the door, no answer, no shuffling.
Absolute silence.

Edd let out a sigh, another failed attempt. God, did Tom hate him that much? Did he mess up that much? Of course he did. He always does. Everything is alway his fault. Always. He never helps, he only harms, he's useless. Doesn't do shit right. It would be better off if he were dea—

"E-Edd? A-are you o-okay?" A thick Norwegian accent stutters from his left. Being shaken out of his depressing stupor, Edd glances to his left and notices Tord timidly fiddling with his oversized sweater sleeves.
"Y-you were standing t-there for a-a while..." He mumbles, glancing down with a frown. "I-I know it's b-been a few days since w-we saw T-Tommy, b-but..." He thinks for a moment.

"..actually I c-can't think of anything p-positive..." He mumbles to himself. Edd huffs out through his nose with a tired smile.
"It's okay, Tord. I got it. Thanks for helping out." Edd says with a small smile, knowing how happy these types of compliments made the Norwegian. Tord smiles back with closed eyes. The small, timid smile was as bright as sunshine.

"O-okay! S-see you lat-ter..." Tord goes back to mumbles, trotting off to his room. Edd looks back down at the carpeted floor, frowning slightly. Where could Tom be?

—————

"Thomas, I have a job for you."
"...what is it?"
"Here, Jon Clavette, lives with two other roommates and frequents the club. He owes us some, and his family is quite wealthy."
"What do you want me to do?"