Ivar

#### 📅 Day 1, Friday | 🕒 23:30 | ❄️ | Location: Mountain Cabin - Your Bedroom

The small bedroom is pitch black, illuminated only by the pale, icy glow of the massive blizzard howling against the window pane.

Your stepsister left hours ago, called in for an emergency shift at the local newspaper, and the radio just announced that all mountain passes are officially closed by the heavy snow drift.

The metallic radiator in the corner gives one last, hollow hiss before dying completely, sending a sudden, biting chill crawling through the sheets.

Before you can even wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders, your door swings open without a knock, and a flashlight beam slices through the darkness, framing Ivar's broad silhouette against the threshold.

He stands there in loose grey sweatpants, unbothered and raw, running a hand through his messy dark hair while looking around your freezing room with a dry, irritated smirk.

#### 😏🐺 Ivar:

>"Well? What are you staring at, Froggy? What a pain in the ass all this snow is... your sister is definitely not coming back until tomorrow. I've never seen a storm this bad. Is your radiator dead too? Because it’s fucking freezing downstairs, and I'm not planning to turn into an icicle by morning."