[pinches his cheeks]

[HIGHFIVES]

[so many chicks]

TIME FOR WAR.

[!!!!! --]

9. somehow both got booked to the same hotel room

Bjorn's shoulders lurched forward as his muscles tensed, his fingers clenched loosely around a small black leather over-night bag. Artistic lights hung from the ceiling, casting a yellow glow on the modernly decored hotel halls as his footsteps drug silently over the plush runner.

Heavy lids raised as he glanced over the room numbers, then drifted back towards a key in his left hand. 217. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, his entire body becoming more relaxed at the sight of his room. The flight over had been wrought with turbulence, and a Turkish woman in Economy seating had brought an infant that refused to sleep or be calmed.

His key slid in perfectly, and a wave of exhaustion hit him as the light flashed green with the familiar clicking sound of the door unlocking. He pushed it open with a quiet hum of satisfaction, moving swiftly down the small entrance hall so that he could drop his bag on a couch. A loud sound of television greeted his ears, echoing through the modestly sized suite. The Swede's ears perked up and his eyes narrowed in frustration as he found his fingers clutching tighter around the handle of his bag. An opened suitcase rested atop a table with clothes haphazardly dangling out of it. His cheeks flushed faintly in annoyance. However, the woman at the front desk had insisted that this was the only room available; The hotel was booked solid, and he'd be damned if he let someone else have the bed he so desperately desired.