coldsong | If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks...

At the start of the evening, there are two Lokis at the corner table of the Cafe. Pretty much anyone who joins them is inevitably going to be asked whether he or she can tie a cherry stem into a knot with his or her tongue.

Who let this child in?

Probably the owner since this is an all ages establishment and Peter Parker has a habit of getting himself into places he shouldn't be. But this seems nice enough. A quiet place to do his homework and hang ou--both of his friends named Loki are here. Well what do you know?

That's not intimidating or anything. He waves when they catch sight of him. Can he join...?

"Peter!" Loki waved enthusiastically, before he was gesturing for the spiderchild to join them, with a beaming smile. Homework? Who did homework anymore that's boring!

Oh! Well Loki seems to be in a much better mood than he'd been in before. That's definitely a good thing, right? Maybe he's made a plan with his other self and together using the power of ~~mischief squared~~ friendship they'll be just fine after all.

Right? Maybe?

Either way, those milkshakes look really good. He slides into an empty seat, tucking away his math book into his backpack.

"Uhm, hi. Fancy seeing you guys here."

"Someone get our darling Peter a milkshake yes? And another plate of cherries if you'd be so kind." There was already a plate of empty stems some in neat knots, others broken. The pair had been busy, clearly.

"We've been stress-testing the flexibility of the cherry stems in this establishment." Loki grinned, brows lifting. "Do you know how to tie a stem into a knot with your tongue?"

Important science tonight!

"Strawberry please, if that's okay?"

Pink and girly? Perhaps, perhaps. But tasty as all getout and that beats looking cool any day. At least in Peter's book it does.

"Why would you need to know that? What are they good for?"

"Wonderful choice!" Loki approved, sipping from his own strawberry shake with a teasing wiggle of his brows.

"Well it's a fun way to show off!"

It's fruity and sweet and fun! Those are the most important food groups, right? It still coaxes a far less awkward smile out of Peter as he makes himself comfy in his seat.

"Show off...?" He feels like there's a detail he's missing here but he picks up one of the cherries all the same. "I've never tried."

Sounds legit to Loki! The trickster slings an idle arm over his friend's shoulders, twirling a straw between his fingers.

"It's a good way to impress a date!" Peter you adorable spider child.

Well that's closer than he anticipated being right now, but not like in a bad way? Just, this poor teen is hopelessly awkward and lacking in physical contact that isn't his secret handshake with Ned most days.

"Okay?" Why? It is a mystery. But if the gods demand it Peter will sure as heck try! Though, it's going to end with him spitting it out after a solid half minute wearing a frown. Untied. "That's a lot harder than it sounds like it should be."

Hi Peter! You're just in time to see the other Loki spit out two halves of a cherry stem into a napkin.

This is not his night, okay?

"I don't think you're supposed to eat that part."

Is Peter squinting? A bit. Just a bit.

"Ftheh." Loki replies, makes a face at Peter good-naturedly, and then beckons the poor longsuffering server over yet again.

"I am trying to tie the stem in a knot with my tongue," he explains. "But they keep breaking. What flavor milkshake do you want?"

"Oh uh, strawberry please."

Sugary fruity ice cream drink get at him please he wants it in his stomach yesterday. It is calling to him, saying 'Peter, you really shouldn't be spending your money on me but you are so enjoy it'. It's a guilty pleasure, is what he's saying.

"Why would you need to know how to do that?"

Oh, Peter, did you think you were paying for it? Loki isn't volunteering to treat every Tom, Dick, and Harry, here, but you're a minor and you're endearing, so this one's on him. He holds out his PINpoint to allow the credits to be taken from his balance.

"I don't need to, but everyone else can do it and I refuse to be left behind."

It's not that Peter is way too easy to impress (though he is, let's be honest) but the prospect of free food and/or drink has his mouth dropping open with very childlike wonder. There's a very quick and very grateful thanks being offered before he settles back in his seat and studies the plate of fruit carefully.

Plucks one of the cherries up between his fingers.

"They can? I've never tried." He's never had a cherry in his life that didn't come out of a can or packed in syrup for that matter. "You have to do it all in your mouth then?"

Loki is nowhere near as concerned about Peter's nutritional intake as Steve is. It's just not the kind of thing he thinks about; he is not considerate. But he can be generous when he's in a good mood and feeling flashy, and a milkshake isn't much of a splurge.

There will be extra whipped cream. They have already established that you can't sit at the Loki table unless you have extra whipped cream on your shake.

"I suppose I can't criticize that. I never tried until tonight, although I'd heard of it before."

"Yes, you put the stem in your mouth and tie the knot before you take it back out." Peter, if you get it on the first try, he's going to be annoyed.

Look at the moment people can take their morals and cares for Peter's well being and shove them. He has free food and he's going to eat it with gusto. Extra whipped cream even! Score!

"Okay, well. Here goes nothing." It's really not as easy as it sounds like it should be and having a god stare you down while you try to do it does nothing to ease his nerves. Peter's going to pull it out (untied) of his mouth after half a minute or so, looking a bit embarrassed.

"It uh...it sounded easier when you explained it."

Man, Steve was really approaching this wrong by bringing fruit to the Nexus. If only Loki realized, he could tell him ice cream was the way to go.

Loki is distinctly unhelpful with Peter's case of nerves, resting his chin in his hands and watching him intently. When he pulls the stem out of his mouth again, unsuccessful, the god sighs in relief.

"At least I'm not the only one," he says, and taps the edge of his cup against Peter's. "Cheers. If you want instruction, you'll have to go to Harley or the other Loki. I don't have the knack, either."

Oh jeez. The staring is gonna make him stutter. He knows it. He hates when he does that but he can't help it and--

"O-oh! Cheers! I think..I'll uh. I'll try it a few more times by myself and see if I can figure it out. It's an excuse to enjoy fresh cherries if nothing else. I haven't actually had them before."

And they're really good like holy cow. Why can't fresh fruit and produce be so affordable back home?

Loki's stare can make a lot of people stutter. If he didn't unnerve or fluster Peter at all, he'd be worried.

"Truly, you've never had fresh cherries?" The ones here are pitted, and maybe sugared a little, but otherwise seem to be right off the tree as far as Loki can tell. He likes them very much, himself. "That seems a pity. Are they so scarce on Midgard?"

He's aware by now that Asgard was a little bit spoiled, with anything fresh that couldn't be grown there rolling in easily enough from Alfheim or other worlds they traded with. That, and as a prince he had access to all the best of everything, but even the lower social tiers were not left to suffer malnutrition, not under Odin's reign and not when Loki took over in secret.

Had he never left Asgard, he probably wouldn't know what it was like to be truly hungry.

"Oh, uh. N...no, not exactly. But they aren't a staple food either you know? There's only so much you can put them in and well. Things are kinda tight back at
home. You know how it is."

A beat later and it occurs to Peter realizes that Loki probably does not in fact know how it is. He's a god and a prince at that. Why would he know poverty or hunger? And suddenly Peter sits up a bit straighter because he doesn't want the questions that might follow to come.

He needs to change the subject.

"A-anyway, where'd you learn to like a milkshake? Is that like, a big thing on Asgard?"

Edited 2018-11-24 17:32 (UTC)

Loki doesn't know how it is by experience, but he's seen a few things in his thousand-plus years of existence. He doesn't know poverty, but he knows exile. He doesn't know what it is to be hungry in one's own country, but he knows deliberate starvation and torture.

It never ceases to amaze him how poorly humans take care of their own, though. Midgard is different from Asgard in its golden days. Its population is far greater, its social problems more complicated, its people less unified and shorter-lived. That Loki had his own ideas about how all this should be handled is undeniable, and he would have put them into practice if he hadn't been defeated by the Avengers before. Whether that would have made Peter's life better or worse up until this point, who knows?

But he does understand, after a moment's reflection, what he means by 'things are kinda tight' and immediately decides pity is the wrong way to respond. He is a god and he will play that role.

"Of course," he says with a smile that exudes smugness. "They are perishable fruits, and Midgard's system for transport and preservation of such foods is underdeveloped. I suppose such things are difficult to obtain in a large city."

...because that's obviously what the kid meant. Logistics, not lack of money.

He's just as glad to leap on the segue, as well, though. He nods at his alternate. "It's his fault. I already liked ice cream when I arrived here--and believe me, Harley took advantage of that--but he's the one that talked me into trying milkshakes. We had neither on Asgard as I recall. Custards, yes, and frozen dishes more like pure ice flavored with fruits and honey, but not ice cream."

Even mentioning Harley's name makes Peter's spider senses twinge slightly. As though she could be conjured up at a moment's notice. She's met Spider-Man but she hasn't met Peter Parker and he's pretty keen on keeping those two things separate for as long as he can. More people know already than he'd like.

He rubs at the back of his neck and follows along with Loki's story with a nod. He wasn't aware Loki knew Harley Quinn. Then again, he's not supposed to know who she is, either. It's always so complicated.

"I like a lot of fruity ones. But Aunt May's favorite is pistachio so sometimes we get that. I've kind of learned to like it."

Loki has caught glimpses of Harley's dark side, but they've all been directed away from him. He has a hard time seeing her as anything other than a friend and companion at this point. He'd be surprised to find out she unnerves Peter at all, even if the reason for it isn't personal.

"Pistachio? I like the sound of that. Honey is my favorite, but coffee, peppermint, and lavender are good, as well." He makes a mental note to try pistachio next.

"I tend to be picky about fruit, I suppose. I like it, but I want it neither too sweet nor too sour."

"I guess a God can afford to be picky in whatever he wants."

Peter gives Loki a shy smile before turning his attention back to his own strawberry milkshake with a little bit of amusement coloring his eyes and posture. Even when he teases, he does it lightly.

"Have you read anything good from the library lately? I found a book on photography that's been a real interesting read."

Child, you are too endearing for your own good. Loki snorts at the tease, and then laughs quietly, gets up, and fetches another bowl of cherries. Once again, he only takes one off the top and pushes the rest toward Peter.

"My experiences with photography have been limited to SHIELD's database reference shots and watching people take selfies with Thor," he says dryly. "But I understand it is also an art form. Is it a hobby of yours?"

"I've been dividing my library time between the magic section and the quantum theory section."

Pause. "...and a few Midgardian children's books. For a break."

Oh neat, more cherries! Oh but, that means more of this knot tying business. Okay here goes nothing! He'll have to get the hang of it eventually. It does at least mean he's quiet while Loki speaks.

No matter what odd faces he's making while he fuses with the stem in his mouth.

"Mmh. Mm-hmm." Peter nods quickly at the question of hobbies. Magic and quantum theory's a hell of a combination but if anyone can probably understand both and then some, it would be a god. It's all as much as Greek to Peter, though the quantum theory stuff he's at least hoping to start delving into soon enough on his own.

He pulls the stem out of his mouth and it looks like he might have gotten it---only the stem broke. Progress!

"Yeah? I liked Charlotte's Web, as a kid. If you haven't looked at it, I recommend it."

You know, Azwel wasn't even thinking of showing up here, mainly because he had no idea there was going to be any kind of a party happening at any time. But here he is, because there's a very strange confluence of interdimensional energy here and he can smell it.

And the reason becomes patently obvious once he notices there are two of the same being in close proximity to one another. Spacetime ripples around them like sound waves in a tray of water, spilling excess energy into the surroundings. It's enough to make one giddy. Or maybe just Azwel, as he's made himself all-too-sensitive to such things over the years.

Excuse him, he's just going to sidle up to these folks.

"I couldn't help but notice," he says. "I've never seen two of the same being in the same place before! This Nexus truly is a wonder, is it not?"

He seems so... delighted.

Ice-green eyes look up at the newcomer, scanning him curiously but without any sense of hostility or intimidation.

"Ah! That wasn't half bad, but if I may make a suggestion? You're meant to phrase it like this--" Loki clears his throat, leans his elbow on the table, and says in a lower, more suggestive octave: "'What are two nice, identical boys like you doing in a place like this'?"

He's terrible. Someone stop him.

"But do sit if you like. Tonight is for company."

Azwel chuckles at that. "Well, if you insist," he answers, "It would be terribly rude of me to refuse!" So he joins them, eyes flicking between the two Lokis.

"So what are two nice, identical boys like you doing in a place like this?" His voice doesn't quite manage suggestive, mainly because he's trying not to laugh.

"I suppose I should clarify, that we're not all that nice," Loki says, and picks up another cherry to try with. "At least I'm not. I shouldn't ruin my counterpart's opportunity to be the good twin."

He smiles at Azwel. "We are celebrating now, in case we do egregious harm to ourselves when we go out to find liquor after this."

"Ahah. Celebrating what, might I ask?"

Now this is something he's missed since starting on his self-appointed crusade to save the human race from itself. He's simply not allowed himself the opportunity to enjoy himself for far too long. Anyone would tell you, that's not healthy in the slightest.

"Potential drunkenness," he answers. "It's sometimes difficult to find something strong enough, you see, when you're a god."

This is probably not exactly the idea response, but he's not about to just tell everyone one of them is going to die tomorrow. It's not his secret, and it would cast a pall over the proceedings.

Pardon Azwel his apparent ignorance, but he's quite, quite new to this Nexus and hasn't yet met any of its resident deities. However, he realises there's something to Loki's tone that tells him this claim is not simply braggadocio.

"That would be quite the experiment, indeed. Forgive my... ignorance, I don't know many beings here, yet. What is your name?"

You know what? He'll take it. Shock and awe are very nice, but peaceable acceptance is nothing to sneeze at, either.

"There is nothing to be forgiven. No one here knows everyone they meet at a glance. I am Loki. My twin is also Loki, from a different, parallel reality. We have been fortunate enough to find one another here, and even more fortunate in that we get along so well."

"And you, friend? What can I call you?"

He's not quite as familiar with Norse mythology and its variations as he is with, say, Hellenic, but the name is familiar.

He brightens at the further description: "Ah, that does explain the abundance of energy I sensed!"

He offers a hand to shake, and though it's clad in a golden gauntlet, there's nothing Infinity about it, nor about the matching one on his other hand. "I am Azwel." He's gotten used to people in this Nexus not having heard of him, so he leaves it at that.

"We are nothing if not energetic," he agrees, deadpan.

And he does eye that gauntlet warily, but only for a moment. The fact that there's a matching one on the other hand is reassuring enough. Besides, he's pretty sure he'd have noticed before now if Thanos was around. Because he would be dead.

"Charmed to meet you, Azwel. How kind of you to join us!" He shakes hands without any evident fear of having his vulnerable fingers crunched by metal.

"Don't mind my companion he is absolutely feeling like trouble tonight!" Not that this was unique to him if the sly smile the other wore was any hint as he studied the stranger. It is amusing that he's so delighted to see two tricksters, but maybe he's a playful sort himself. They'd certainly see!

"We're doing a poll! Perhaps you'd like to help?" Yes. A poll, totally. That's absolutely what they're doing.

What's the worst that could happen?

Don't answer that.

"Certainly," Azwel replies. "What's the question?"

"Well!" Loki held up a cherry by the stem, the bright fruit bobbing lightly.

"We're wondering how many Nexus-goers can tie a cherry stem into a knot using only their mouths?"

"Hah! That old trick!"

He reaches out and picks up another cherry (Is that a golden gauntlet he's wearing? Well, yes, but it matches the one on his other hand and neither are nearly so... jewel-festooned) and pops it in his mouth.

There's a moment or two of chewing and a thoughtful expression. Then he spits out the tied stem with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a classic!"

Loki settles back to watch the man work, gaze noting the gauntlets, wondering if they were just armor or something more, but then he was displaying his success, earning a laugh and polite applause from the trickster.

"Yes, well done!"

If Loki can spot magickal energies, those gauntlets would definitely attract attention, as they radiate interdimensional energy. Not... Infinity Stone type energy, but the kind you get from working with astral rifts.

"Thank you, thank you," Azwel grins. "So what have your data shown thus far?"

Oh that there is fascinating~!

"Mostly that so far it's only my poor twin who has been having trouble with the faulty stems. Truly a shame, hard to live up to the Silvertongue title like that, hm?" He teases from a place of love!

"Oh, that is a shame," Azwel mourns this failure. "Perhaps he simply needs more practice?"

"It is his first time trying it." Loki considers the issue, sipping his milkshake. "I imagine he'll master it with time!"

"Hi again!" That is Harley's arm that is suddenly around his shoulders. "Let me guess... you missed me?"

"Hullo!"

He looks up at her, and actually is rather pleased to see another person he knows.

"I didn't know I did, but clearly, I must have done!"

"Have you tried a milkshake yet? They are the BEST!"

He's munching on another cherry and pauses, makes a somewhat odd face, and then spits out a stem tied twice. Show-off.

"I have not," he answers, genuinely interested. "But clearly they come highly recommended."

He will order a milkshake, then, because of course he's one of those people who can eat whatever he wants with no repercussions, the bastard. Cookies and cream. He has no idea what that'll turn out like, but anything with cream at least sounds like a good start.

She laughs. She already managed a two knot tie. But if it makes him happy....

"Don't forget the whipped cream!"

No matter how intelligent and sophisticated they may be, men are, at heart, simple creatures with simple delights. But perhaps he'll try for three if he can find a long enough stem.

"The things people here can do with milk and sugar! Where I'm from, this is a delicacy for the wealthy!"

"You get used to that kind of thing in the Nexus. They don't even look identical. There's a few of us out there with mirror duplicates running around."

And yes, Jim is one of those folks. He tips his drink toward Azwel and smiles ever so slightly. You get used to it.

This genuinely interests him. Of all the things that could result from interdimensional travel, duplicates are not anything he'd even vaguely considered, seeing as how he predates Hugh Everett by a few hundred years. Still, the idea of two of the same being needles at what he knows of early physics. He can't quite put his finger on why it shouldn't happen, but it just... doesn't seem as though it should.

"I've the suspicion that usually that would result in some kind of disastrous reaction of energies that we've only just begun to understand," he muses.

"You would think that. I've been around my own long enough to know that's not the case though."

At the very least, if the two of them meeting up has any disastrous effects on the multiverse as a whole it's happening on a scale that neither one can observe individually. So effectively it doesn't count, right?

"It does make things awkward when someone thinks they know one of us and it's the wrong one though." Growing the beard was the best decision his counterpart could have made honestly.

Azwel laughs a hearty laugh at that. "Worse than twins, even!" he chortles.

Then he thinks on it for a moment. "The same being, yet not..." it hits him and he grins. "Of course, what a person does in one reality is not necessarily the same as what they would do in another. So one's choices in one reality or another would result in completely different lives! Oh, that is fascinating!"

Oh, great. He's going to invent quantum physics a few hundred years too early and really fuck up his timeline. Where are any Time Lords when you need them?

Kinner's still not too sure what's going on with the Lokis, but he's not opposed to a night out on the town. So a small, scar-faced man in polar clothing shuffles in, carrying some popcorn shrimp if anybody wants them. Besides, he's in the mood to try out milkshakes. As a cook, he feels obliged to sample a variety of foods.

"Evening, Loki," he says, "and Loki. I brought shrimp, if anyone wants some."

"Kinner!" Loki gestured him in with a smile, expression brightening when he heard there was food to be had. "Shrimp? You're a delight, really!"

"Popcorn shrimp." Kinner lays the platter down for them to have access to. "In return, I'd like to try one of those milkshakes. What flavors do you have?" He'll have booze, too, he's no stranger to alcohol, but he'd like to have some food in his stomach before he starts drinking.

Loki of course is a bottomless pit when he sets his heart to it so is happy to pluck up a piece to sample, letting out a pleased hum at the taste of the shrimp.

"Wonderful! There's all manner of flavors to be had! My counterpart's been rather fond of the peppermint today."

Kinner nods. "Peppermint. I'll take your word for it. Two of the same person in one place...Connant and old Vance Norris would have a lot of questions."

He returns with a peppermint milkshake a short while later, sipping it discreetly.

"I'll say that it's good to have something besides canned food and beef. This is good stuff."

Loki's taking his time on his own strawberry shake, a smile on his face at Kinner's assessment.

"Makes me think of how excited I was to try Midgard food. Asgardian cuisine is a lot of roast meats and tubers. It gets... monotonous after a time, I'm sure you can imagine!"

Kinner enjoys his milkshake, that's for sure. He'll probably get another.

"Midgard? Asgard?" Kinner assumes these are other worlds, because he's never heard of these places. "In any case, it's good to have variety in your diet. Take it from me - I'm a cook. I know these things."

Edited 2018-11-16 03:32 (UTC)

"Oh, us gods don't really have to worry about that. But it does get dreadfully dull. Earth has so much variety in comparison."

Milkshakes are one such delightful example. And don't feel bad Kinner, Loki is on Milkshake #3 here.

Another god. Kinner's grown used enough to the Nexus that he doesn't even question it anymore. Gods, demons, blobby black aliens with too many teeth...

"If there's anything else you'd like to try sometime, feel free to ask." He can't help but puff himself up a little. "What flavor is that one?"

"I'll keep that in mind! Been learning to cook myself, there's so many things I can barely keep up at times!"

Loki peers down at the milkshakes, giving his own glass a gentle tilt.

"Strawberry fudge! Really good."

"These are delicious! Thank you."

Kinner happily slurps his milkshake. He has to say, they're pretty good, but he also wants to save space for something more substantial.

"I'm not usually the party kind, but I'm glad I came out this time."

Azwel spits out another tied cherry stem and grins. "Ah, hullo, Kinner. What is that delightful scent?"

Kinner smiles proudly. He's satisfied with his work. "Popcorn shrimp, sir. I made them in my shop today and figured this party could use a platter. Feel free to try some."

"I believe I shall!"

Pardon him as he just... picks one up. Pops it in his mouth.

"I say, this is quite tasty...."

"Thank you. I do my best."

Kinner follows suit, grabbing a shrimp and eating it with a quiet crunch. He swallows.

"Glad you like 'em. There's plenty more where that came from. Got anything here you'd recommend?"

Edited 2018-11-16 03:20 (UTC)

"There are these wonderful things called 'milkshakes' that you simply must try!" Why, no, there was no such thing where he's from, but he's a fan, now. "Oh, and I'm told there's a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich that's very popular, though I can't imagine why--raw greens are dreadfully unhealthy..."

Kinner grins in reply. "Oh, I've had plenty of milkshakes. And the second part...you mean a hamburger?" Kinner's smile turns into a grin. He's quite fond of hamburgers, and it's been too long since he's had one. "You'll have to show me where I can find those. They may not be the healthiest, but they taste delicious. Take my word for it."

"I think they offer them here," comes the slightly puzzled reply. Restaurants are not as much of a thing in his day as they are, now, at least not in Europe.

"I'll have to see if I can find one. This party's got some interesting dishes, that's for sure. My shrimp are going over well." Kinner jabs a thumb to the shrimp platter.

"Hello! And welcome. I grew up." Loki tells him pleasantly.

"Did you cook them yourself? The salmon you made for CJ looked very good."

"I cook all my food myself," Kinner explains. "Wouldn't be Kinner's Kippers if I didn't."

So the younger Loki grew up? Kinner's not sure what's going on, but he's glad to see this Loki again.

"And I'm glad CJ enjoyed the salmon."

Well, in that case, if would be rude not to taste them! Loki takes a couple of the shrimp delicately.

"I wish I had thought to invite him tonight. I don't have Hermione's PINpoint number, though." His smile is wry but almost soft. He really is grateful for the kindness of the witch and her familiar.

"What are you serving? Other than shrimp and salmon? I'll visit again."

Nodding, Kinner invites Loki to take the shrimp. That's what he'd brought it for!

"I got sushi, tuna, lobsters, oysters, clams, crabs...you name it, I've got it. I'll take requests ahead of time, too, if you have any."

"Hermione's a nice person. She sure was helpful to me." Kinner smiles. "She's got a nice cat, too."

"If I give you my contact information, will you let me know when softshell crabs are in season? I have a taste for them occasionally." They're weird little things, visually, but it's worth ignoring the little legs sticking out for the flavor when they're properly fried.

Loki is far less food-oriented than many in the Nexus, but he likes a treat now and then. And he has no interest in eating Kinner so that's a point in his favor, surely.

Kinner fumbles in his winter coat, coming out with his PINpoint. He's still getting used to them, of course, but he likes to think he's getting better. He offers it to Loki so he can add his information to it. The technology's a marvel - nothing like it existed in Kinner's home time.

"Sure thing. I'll let you know when I've got softshell crabs in stock, no problem. I've got somethin' of a soft spot for them myself."

Loki accepts the device and taps his information into the 'contact info' section easily, messages himself, and returns the PINpoint to Kinner's hand. "Excellent. And let me know if you offer any vegetarian options at any point? My female friend does not eat meat."

But it would be nice to treat her to dinner sometime.

"I do offer vegetarian options and substitutes for customers who don't eat meat," Kinner says, slipping his PINpoint back into his pocket. "They didn't have PINpoints in 1938. I'm still getting used to them, I've got to say."

One of the best things about the Nexus, in fact.

"They're useful, aren't they?" Loki nods his agreement. "You're from 1938? That would be in Midgardian years, I assume?"

Earlier than Rogers, then, but not quite so early as Cricket.

The cook has certainly grown used to the Nexus's technology. If only they'd had access to these things back home! Calling for help would have been much easier.

"Midgardian?" Kinner isn't familiar with that word. "It was in the time scale of my home world."

"Ah, I apologize. Midgard is the name by which my people refer to the Earth. The world of human beings. You are human, are you not?"

He's pretty sure Cricket would have mentioned if he weren't, in that offhanded 'he's-weird-but-he's-nice' way he sometimes has when referring to people he befriends in the Nexus.

Dividing conversation with dinner, Kinner grabs a shrimp, playing with it briefly in his fingers as he listens to Loki before swallowing it down. Midgard was Loki's word for Earth. That made sense enough to satisfy him.

"Yes, I'm human." He's absolutely certain that he's human, and his voice is firm. "I'm new to all the gods and dinosaurs and talkin' animals here, to be honest. But most everyone's been decent so far."

And from riiiight over his shoulder, descends one sharp clawed hand, snagging just one little shrimp as the hiss and pop of that goddamn radio breaks the air.

"Don't mind if I do, Kinner!" Look how nice he's being, not using your adorable new nickname.

Kinner is relieved that Alastor's not using that damned nickname. Thank goodness for small mercies, he figures. The sound of the radio alone, though, makes the small cook jump.

"Glad you're enjoying 'em." Kinner's tense, but manages to be polite. "I made 'em myself."

"I can tell, you're a real chef, aintcha?" A few more vanish down that fanged maw, before, mercifully for Kinner, he lets off.

If only to orient himself in front of the human.

"You know how to make Jambalaya with crawfish, Kinner?"

"I try," Kinner says. He does consider himself a fairly good cook. "I've been gettin' better since I came here. Got more ingredients to use."

Tater tots among them, of course.

"Yes, I do know how to make that." Thankfully, that's one of the recipes he learned about in the Grand Library. "You want some, I'm guessin'?"

Edited 2018-11-17 08:29 (UTC)

Ice Bear works at the cafe and normally he's all for people having fun. But there's something wild about the Loki duo, something that keeps the ursine on his guard. Katsuya has already been informed as well.

He's only here to deliver milkshakes and cherries to the table, then calmly walk away. Getting him to stick around might be easier said than done...

"Ice Bear..." Harley smiles at seeing the familiar friend. "Do you need any help with serving today?"

"Ice Bear will not say no to the help." He's pretty chill about the whole thing, but he'll let Harley have some fun first. "Can start in thirty? Ice Bear will let you keep all the tips."

"Neat! Thanks Ice Bear." And Harley will gives the Polar Bear a quick kiss on his cheerk.

Is he blushing? Yes, just a little. Harley always wins him over quite nicely. Ice Bear does feel obligated to get Harley some grub before her shift, however.

"What does Harley want from the kitchen? Ice Bear can whip up something quickly."

"How about some of your double-chip brownies?" Harley grins. "With a side of ice cream?"

"Can do." Ice Bear nods, then steps away to walk towards the kitchen. Good friends always look out for each other, after all.

Loki isn't trying to be overbearing, but he's a lot. Just in general, he's a lot, and tonight he's more a lot than usual. After probably the seventh bowl of cherries, he stands to follow Ice Bear a couple steps and clears his throat for his attention.

He doesn't want to just touch him. That might not end well with a bear.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "Just...no, I won't even try to explain. But this is a much needed relief."

Ice Bear is about to head back to the kitchen, since most people are either filtering out or have already been served. Harley is also making things much easier, so the ursine has time to socialize. He does stop when addressed, blinking with his black beady eyes at Loki. The words need not be said, trickster, he can tell something is amiss.

"Ice Bear is here to serve. Can bring you something other than cherries though. On the house."

He's been very quiet, patient and stolid, and it's only knowledge of the Nexus that lead Loki to assume he was a talking bear in the first place. Although, really, any kind of bear that bakes and works in a cafe is bound to be unusual by Loki's standards.

Now, though, he's certain that bear or no, this is a perceptive individual, and he nods, smiling lopsidedly.

"I need nothing," he says. "Save your pardon for the mess of cherry stems we seem to be leaving in our wake. But my twin there--" He nods at the other Loki. "Some sort of pretty pastry that he might admire as he eats it? Pretend it's his birthday. And if anything is amiss after we leave, I will square accounts later. On my word as someone who does not wish to be banned from this establishment."

Ice Bear knows nothing of the lore or history surrounding Loki, just that the black-haired man is another customer who needs taken care of. To be honest, his behavior isn't terrible, thus the ursine hasn't had a need to get upset, especially after Loki's reassuring words.

"Ice Bear has got this." Celebrating a semi-birthday? Easy. Katsuya is bound to have some creative Japanese pastries in the back. The bear steps away for a minute, then comes back to Loki holding a small plate with a cute little cake on it.

"Will this do?"

Loki has a pretty clear idea of how his actions result in consequences for himself, and that's why he plans to do his drinking away from the Cafe, after everyone's tired of milkshakes and cherries. It has nothing to do with a conscience and everything to do with liking their ice cream.

At this rate, if no one causes any real trouble, all they've done is bring in an excessive amount of business for one evening. That's not a bad thing.

He waits where he is for Ice Bear's return, breaking into a smile when he sees what he's brought. "...that's charming! Is it your handiwork?"

Kinner looks up. Well, this must've been the polar bear he'd been told about. But he's delivering milkshakes and shows no interest in eating people, so Kinner cautiously looks up from the milkshake and says a shaky hello.

"Howdy there. Ice Bear, I take it?"

Ice Bear is moving about the cafe rather quickly, delivering and taking orders with ease, thanks to having Katsuya and Harley helping. So he manages to slow down enough for Kinner to actually catch him at a not-crazy time. Standing pretty in his usual chef hat and apron, he's already reaching for a notepad in the apron pocket.

"Yes. Ice Bear is Ice Bear. What can Ice Bear get for you?"

"Well...let me see..."

Kinner wishes some of the other men from Big Magnet were here, just so he could see their jaws drop. He's having a conversation with a polar bear who knows English and serves food. Not only that, there's absolutely no risk of Kinner being eaten by said polar bear. The Nexus is a remarkable place, he thinks as he decides on a potential order.

"What is there on offer other than milkshakes? I don't want to fill up on them."

"Ice Bear can make anything."

There's no overconfidence oozing from Ice Bear, still holding fast to his stoic nature. But behind those beady eyes, there's a passionate cook who's up for whatever challenges come his way. He's been spending a lot of time training on cooking lately.

"Name it. Ice Bear will not back down from a challenge."

"You know..."

Kinner thinks. It's not every day a friendly talking polar bear who's also an expert cook offers to make something for him. He considers what he'd like carefully before deciding.

"I'll have a couple hamburgers, if you can do that. I'm guessing you can."

"Hamburgers. Got it."

A simple meal with lots of complex pieces. Ice Bear takes out his notepad, ready to jot the the specifics.

"Temperature? Toppings?"

He's gonna need a little bit of additional information before this order can get taken back to the kitchen.

"Medium rare, with bacon and cheese if possible."

Kinnner's both hungry and feeling vindictive towards the Thing. It's a meaningless gesture, but a hamburger, he feels, would reestablish his spot as top of the food chain.

That'll teach cows, even alien ones, to eat humans.

"Which drinks are on offer?"

Edited 2018-11-19 09:40 (UTC)

That sure is a bear. A big, white, fuzzy bear, like Cricket hasn't ever seen outside of a picture book.

He's seen plenty of black bears, but they're smaller. And they look more timid, and they don't cook, as far as he's aware. Ice Bear may catch the young man staring at him, but the look on his face isn't fear. It's more of a 'he's so fluffy I'm gonna DIE' kind of expression.

Cricket's expression wouldn't be the first nor last time someone thought Ice Bear was cute. As he walks past Cricket's table, he pauses, readjusting the water pitcher is his fuzzy paws.

"...Can Ice Bear get you anything?" He figures the staring is because Ice Bear has accidentally forgotten to take his order.

"O-oh!" Cricket seems kind of surprised to be spoken to, although whether that's because he's not used to talking bears or whether he's just a little shy sometimes, himself, is hard to say.

"No, sir, sorry! Just...I ain't never seen a white bear before. Didn't mean to stare. There was black bears where I came from but they're smaller."

Much smaller.

"Polar bear. Ice Bear's fur is a nice shade of white though."

He takes Cricket's statement as a compliment, not minding the staring comment, since it's better than receiving a negative complaint. Many newcomers are always giving Ice Bear the surprised treatment, so he's used to it.

"Also have panda and grizzly bears." Ice Bear looks over to a table when his two older brother, Grizz and Panda, are happily playing a video game together. Neither of them seem scary either. "Ice Bear is main cook here. Pleasure to meet you."

Cricket is quick to recover from his timidity, particularly since he was admiring how fluffy and white Ice Bear is from the beginning. He breaks into a warm smile and stands up to offer a handshake.

"Ice Bear. Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Cricket."

He glances over his shoulder and only seems more pleased by the sight of the other two bears. He wouldn't want to disturb their gaming, but talking bears strike him as all around delightful.

"Ain't never seen any kind of bears except black bears," he nods. "Do a lot of bears cook where you're from or are you, uh, unusual?"

Adia arrives at the café, and she's not alone. There is a man with her, dark-haired and tight-lipped, wearing a nice suit. When he steps in and sees both Lokis at the corner table, he looks at her with a raised eyebrow. "There's more than one of him?"

"...oh. I guess so?"

"I don't like this," the man says flatly, but Adia shakes her head.

"He asked me to come here. We can stay for a little bit..."

The man sighs, but lets himself be led over. "If he starts asking me to solve puzzles, we're leaving."

Edited 2018-11-16 03:24 (UTC)

Loki more or less lights up when he catches sight of her. He's got no idea who Caspar is, and he almost doesn't care. Obviously he is someone of importance to her, which is fine, but it's Adia that Loki is focused on.

Which could be construed as very creepy, actually, but it's in no way lascivious. Just maybe inordinately interested.

He murmurs something to his alternate and rises to come greet her and her partner. "Hello! I'll buy you each a milkshake if you like. We're attempting to tie the cherry stems in a knot with our tongues. So far my success has been limited. Cricket thinks I'm biting them, but he is mistaken. I'm only folding them with my teeth, and that should not make them break."

Haha, Caspar, the puzzles tonight involve cherry stems.

"Also," his voice drops lower, and he glances at Adia uncertainly, "I encountered a stranger in the Nexus not long ago. Very tall, sharp teeth and hooves. I am not suggesting you seek him out. More the opposite. But if your rune gives you any warnings, they may be related to him. His name is Alastor."

And if he wasn't full of dark magic of some kind, Loki is the more deceived.

It's both flattering and intimidating to draw Loki's attention like that, enough to make her duck her gaze shyly, but she does smile for him, and her hands don't automatically start twisting at her scarf. Progress. "Hi, Loki. A milkshake sounds great, thank you. One for us to share, maybe? This is my boyfriend, Caspar. Caspar, this is Loki."

"A pleasure," Caspar says evenly. He wraps an arm around Adia's waist. It's blatant posturing, but the look on his face makes it clear that he knows that.

Talk of a dangerous stranger distracts them both. "Oh, no, I haven't met or sensed anyone like that." She pauses thoughtfully. "I did meet a creature named Venom. He has sharp teeth, but he's small and goopy and not magical, so far as I can tell."

Caspar looks at her like this is the first he's heard about it. Then looks at Loki again. If the God of Mischief is bothering to warn his girl of potential danger, perhaps he can tone down the wariness. At least overtly.

"Make sure the milkshake has two cherries," he offers, unprompted. "So we both get a shot at this stem-tying trick."

He notes that progress, and while on some level he does enjoy being unnerving, it's probably better in the long run that they be on comfortable platonic terms. Plus, her companion is clearly being protective. Or proprietary. He gives them both a too-bright grin, but doesn't loom, and there's something warmer than usual in his eyes.

"Welcome, Caspar. You'll have to tell me what flavor you like. I favor peppermint, but everyone else seems to be getting chocolate and strawberry." There is no accounting for taste.

He raises an eyebrow at the description of Venom. He's met Eddie, in fact, but Venom didn't bother to chat with him so he doesn't have that clear an idea what he'd be looking for. "Small and goopy. I'll keep an eye out for that." Sounds potentially like a shapeshifter.

"And if you do pick up anything worth sharing, you know where to reach me," he adds to Adia. But that's all he feels needs to be said for the moment, and his expression lightens at Caspar's comment.

"It shall be done!" He laughs. "So far Harley owns the record. We'll see how the rest of us fare"

Oh, it's definitely both. He's already wary of gods who take an unnatural interest in Adia, but Loki has the additional qualities of being handsome, silver-tongued, and several inches taller than him. His concerns in that regard, however, appear to be unfounded, as she cuddles right up into that side embrace, a soft smile on her face that is for him alone.

"That's up to Adia," he says, in regards to flavors. "It's her milkshake, I'm just the lucky guy who gets to share it with her." He looks at her hopefully. "Although I wouldn't say no to coffee."

"Coffee sounds great," she agrees. "Ice Bear has so many flavors back there, it's impossible to choose sometimes. Loki, if you ever meet Venom, he likes chocolate a lot. And, um... people, too. But someone told him that he's only allowed to eat bad people and he responds well to redirection, so I wouldn't worry about it." As for the reminder of their deal, she nods earnestly. "Of course, I'll let you know as soon as possible." Via text, unless it's a true emergency. She can use the prayer hands emoji if that helps.

Mention of Harley gets a chuckle out of Caspar. "Of course she does," he says with genuine affection. "I think the best anyone else can hope for is a distant second."

There are, in fact, gods who delight in homewrecking amongst mortals. Loki himself may not be above that, but even if it were possible, there's nothing to be gained by it here. He is charmed by Adia on the same level he was delighted by Jane Foster. She has every reason to distrust and/or fear him, but she has enough of a backbone not to let him get away with running over her roughshod.

Honestly, that's the kind of person he needs around him.

He's not sure what Caspar is like, but he's making a decent first impression thus far, and he approves of coffee-flavored ice cream. After honey, it's his second favorite. He slips past them to place the order, leaning against the counter to chat as they wait.

"A man-eating gooey monster that likes chocolate. Sounds par for the course for the Nexus." He gives her a mild nod, acknowledging her offer.

He also likes her because she's so ~~useful~~ helpful.

Caspar gets a grin for his reaction to the mention of Harley. He didn't realize they were good friends, but that's clearly the reaction of someone who knows her. "Well, I'm in second-to-last place at the moment, but I don't begrudge her the accolades."

Yep, there sure are. Like, practically an entire pantheon of them, where Adia's from. But that doesn't even cross her mind as something Loki might try, and once Caspar bears witness to Loki behaving himself, he also puts the thought aside.

Mostly. His posture relaxes, but he's not dropping that arm around her any time soon.

"He likes tater tots, too," she adds, not so much because she thinks it's important information, but because she finds it amusing. "But, anyway. Pretty typical for the Nexus, yes."

How funny that she doesn't sound the least bit scared of Venom. Well, he's not a god. That might be the difference.

"Only second-to-last?" Caspar asks, with a raised eyebrow. Harley is indeed a good friend of his. One of the few people he's willing to refer to as a friend at all. "Who's last? Or are you including anyone who can't do it at all?" He needs to know what the playing field is like before participating.

Not here, not now. Although he might flirt with near anyone in the place once he starts drinking. That ought to be good and awkward.

"Tater tots," Loki repeats, and can't help but smirk. He knows exactly what they are, but there's something about the way humans name and rename things that's funny to observe. "Infant potatoes. I'll keep that in mind should I need an offering to propitiate the beast."

"Cricket's last," he deadpans. "He swallowed his cherry stem in the attempt and nearly choked on it. Since we can't verify what happened to it, we have to count it as a partial success. Anyone who can't do it at all doesn't make the list."

She almost tells him what tater tots are, specifically, but keeps her mouth shut at the last second, realizing that he knows and is merely expressing his amusement. Although she can't help but wonder if Thor knows about tater tots, also. She has a feeling he'd like them.

Her milkshake arrives, and Ice Bear has taken great care to make it look as delicious as it tastes. There is a cloud of whipped cream on top, along with a drizzling of sweetened coffee syrup and two bendy straws shaped into matching hearts. And, of course, the two requested cherries.

"That's setting the bar awfully low," Caspar remarks. "But okay." He plucks a cherry from the milkshake and offers it to Adia. "Ladies first. Please don't choke on the stem."

"No promises," she retorts, perhaps as a bit of revenge for Caspar not expressing any sympathy for Cricket. He nearly choked! But once she has the cherry chewed and swallowed, she is indeed very careful with the stem, rolling it carefully in her mouth while she tries to work out the logistics. If she bends it in the middle with her tongue, she can cross the ends... but no, she still needs to push one of those ends through the loop...

Caspar taps her on the shoulder. "Mmm?" she says, and he smiles at her, revealing the stem of his cherry that he has already tied into a neat little knot.

Adia grabs a napkin and spits out her mangled stem. "How'd you do that so fast?"

He shrugs and adds the tied stem to the refuse napkin. "I've had a lot of practice." He whispers something into her ear that makes her laugh, her cheeks turning as red as the the artificially colored cherries.

"That's not how that works," she protests, before adding, "Although you are very good at that." Now it's Caspar's turn to blush. She returns her gaze to Loki, trying to regain her composure. "Thank you for the milkshake, by the way."

Thor has met very few edibles he didn't like. Loki is more than happy to tease him about his indiscriminate eating practices, although to be fair, he's almost as adventurous, himself.

"Look, it's my party, I'm allowed to set the bar as low as I like," Loki responds laughingly. Technically, it's his alternate's party, but the point still stands.

He falls silent to watch their stem tying efforts with amusement dancing in his eyes, and frankly he feels he's only further rewarded by the exchange between them after Caspar spits out his perfectly-knotted stem.

The context may be completely innocent, but between her blush and the whispering, it's easy to surmise all sorts of wild things, and he can't bite back a delighted laugh.

"You are more than welcome," he tells them, gaze flicking from one to the other. "I feel I've been fully repaid already."

"Listen, the plan for tonight, for myself and the other Loki, is to move on to liquor when we have our fill of sweets. You are both welcome to tempt fate with us for as long as you like."

Ah, so it's that kind of party. "Maybe I should abstain," he says. "What's the saying? Milkshake before liquor, never been sicker?"

"That's not a thing," Adia replies breezily, nudging the milkshake glass into Caspar's hands. He takes an obliging sip, smiling a little around the bite of the straw. He'd be perfectly happy to leave, Adia's obligation to Loki fulfilled, but it's looking like she'll want to stick around for a little while longer, and he won't begrudge her a good time.

She takes her own sip when he's done, letting him keep hold of the glass. "We'll stay for a while," she promises Loki. She's not sure what the occasion is, but there doesn't need to be one. This could be his way of shining up his image, encouraging others to have a good time in his name. Or maybe he's bored. Either way, she's happy to support any positive behavior.

Caspar's expression sobers, his hazel eyes flicking over to Loki. "One thing, though. If you see a man here wearing a cage on his head, do not let anyone take it off. We're all going to have a bad time if that happens." He's not particularly worried about Loki causing trouble at his own party, but Crossroads Café has a bad track record. It'd be reckless of him to not at least offer a warning.

"I've not heard of that, but if it rhymes there is undoubtedly a grain of truth to it," Loki says dryly.

"Good," he says. "And say hello to my alternate if you can get through the crowd to him. You'll like him, he's warmer than I am."

His eyes narrow at Caspar's warning, though. Adia did, in fact, mention the cage-headed man with extreme psychic powers in their discussion about her rune before. And now he's not sure whether it will force her to make unwanted explanations if he makes any indication they've discussed the matter, so he hesitates, brow creasing. "...Generally speaking, when someone is in a cage, even partway, it's a good idea not to remove them from it. I can say that; I've been in a cage."

Despite the sarcasm, he nods his acknowledgment. "I'll keep it in mind, should I see this individual." And he will. He's lost the inclination to poke bombs with sticks to see how big the explosion will be.

"Maybe if you're lactose-intolerant," Caspar concedes before taking another sip of milkshake. It really is quite good; if he had more of a natural appetite, he'd drink the whole thing.

Loki needn't worry in that department. Caspar knows about the impromptu moon rune assessment. "Point taken," he replies. His gaze drops briefly to Loki's footwear. "At least you keep your shoes tied."

That must be a comment on the cage-headed man's appearance, because Adia sighs a little at that. We can't all be fashionistas, Caspar. She's also a little concerned about all this cage business. Why was Loki in a cage? That wasn't in the myths. Who put him there? Was it a just punishment, or did he suffer?

She wants to ask about it, but doesn't. This is a party. People don't talk about being locked up at a party. (Not the kind of parties she goes to, anyway.) "We'll try to say hi to your alternate. It looks like he's having a nice time."

"If you're lactose intolerant and drinking a milkshake, you're asking for whatever pain you receive, I think. Liquor or no."

He glances down at his feet when Caspar does, and gives him a quizzical look after. "I rarely wear shoes with laces, anyway. These have zips up the inside of the ankle and buckle in the back."

...look, if they're going to start talking about clothing, Loki has some opinions. And Thor has opinions about Loki's opinions. Perhaps it's for the best if they just focus on the celebration.

He smiles, looking over to where his younger twin appears to be talking to a crow. "I should hope so. That's all I wanted out of this."

Adia's entrance into the cafe almost goes unnoticed by Marie, who's huddled up near the back of the cafe with a glass of wine and a change of wardrobe. Gone are the usual suits and glasses, replaced by aviator sunglasses, contacts and a crushed velvet jacket with a few Pokemon stitched into it. Even her red hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She's here to observe this random party, nor be a part of it.

However, there's something magnetizing about Caspar Millen, and slowly Marie's eyes drift over to the entrance, spotting the loving couple. He should make her mad, but the feeling of confusion wells in her body. Both him and Adia have acted strangely around her before, so engaging them directly is futile.

Instead, she flags down Ice Bear and has him take two drinks over to the couple. Their usual, since Ice Bear knows these things. The only message the ursine is given is that if they ask who the drink is from to let them know. If the question never comes up, then she'll let it go.

Either way, there's a familiar polar bear approaching, a tray full of wonderful drinks and treats in his fuzzy paws.

The presence of gods in the café is distracting, and so Marie in her casual attire goes unnoticed for now. Ice Bear, however, is quick to get their attention. Adia smiles at him warmly, and Caspar looks equally glad to see him. "How's it going?" he asks his ursine pal.

"Are those for us?" Adia asks in surprise. They must be, chai latte is her favorite and Caspar almost always orders a macchiato. But the only just got here. "Who ordered these?"

"Good. Busy. Brothers are doing well." Ice Bear turns to a table, where Panda is huddled over a sketchpad, Grizz is playing wildly on a Nintendo Switch. Both of them are wearing knitted scarves from Ice Bear, which reminds the ursine that he needs to start knitting more gifts for Christmas.

"Ice Bear knows all. Sees all." This might sounds creepy, but there's a little smirk on his face, almost seeming proud about having this knowledge. As for Adia's question, Ice Bear puts his poker face back on. "A thank you for help received. Since one could not be given that Hallow's Eve. Ice Bear is just the messenger."

Adia takes a peek at the bear brothers and smiles brightly, making a mental note to say hi to them later when they aren't so engrossed in drawing or playing games. Caspar unconsciously sweats a little at the sight of the sketchpad. He likes Panda, but does not want to be stuck looking at the bear's art. He's running out of positive but not-actually-lying things to say about it!

Their attention returns to Ice Bear when he gives his answer. Caspar inwardly groans. Great, another riddle. But after a moment's thought, he realizes that it must be someone who was also there during the Seven Sisters incident.

"You may be the messenger, Ice Bear, but thank you for the drinks." She takes them off the tray, handing the macchiato to Caspar. Or trying to, anyway. Caspar's hand is balled up into a fist, his posture stiff and unyielding. She turns to look in the direction he's staring, and --

Oh. It's Marie. Adia bites her lip, then nudges Caspar. "Honey. Don't stare."

Caspar looks at her, and the tightness in his jaw fades. He sighs and takes the drink. "What the hell is her problem?" he mutters. He cannot possibly have made it more obvious that he wants nothing to do with her.

"She doesn't understand, Caspar..." She should have been honest with Marie all those weeks ago. Instead, she's created some sort of mystery when there should be none. "I'll talk to her, okay? And I'll make it clear that you want to be left alone."

Caspar pouts and looks away, but eventually relents with a small nod. "Be careful," he advises.

"I will," she says, and kisses his cheek. She smiles again at Ice Bear -- apologetically, she hadn't wanted to drag her friend into this mess -- and then walks over to Marie.

"Hi, Marie," she says quietly. "I didn't see you when I came in. Thank you for the drinks."

Edited 2018-11-17 17:28 (UTC)

"Ice Bear does his best." But even the ursine is wondering if this kind gesture is overstepping his role. As if on cute, his ears wiggle just a bit, sensing and seeing Caspar's reaction. As if on cue, he nods, then gestures to the second floor stairwell. Lately, it's been necessary to keep security cameras on the floor, mainly to deter anyone from trying anything funny. Blame Katsuya's police nature on this one or Ice Bear's desire to spy on everyone. Regardless, while Adia goes off to talk, the polar bear is more than happy to guide Caspar upstairs so he can watch and listen in on the conversation.

Consider it a way to repay him for accidentally creation this awkward moment. It'll also keep Panda and Grizz off his back for a while.

As for Marie, a first glance should reveal her behavior is less than well, in comparison to the former times Adia has seen her. In fact, her posture and nursing a glass of wine with something sweet should look familiar, similar to the time Adia was in the Nexus having her own drunk moment. However, there's no cute animal videos to help break the ice, nor any visible tears. Instead, the red-haired woman seems a bit shocked that Adia actually came over to talk with her.

"Ms. Costas...I didn't mean to pry you away from your significant other. I just wanted to do something nice after the incident with Hunter. I'm sorry if the gesture came off the wrong way."

Caspar's gaze follows Ice Bear's gesture and he raises an eyebrow. He noticed the additional security cameras, so he has a fairly good idea of what his friend is suggesting. After a moment's hesitation, he nods and lets Ice Bear lead him up the stairs.

It's not that he doesn't trust Adia to try her best at smoothing things over. But Marie is another matter entirely. And anyway, he's not doing any good standing here and glaring in her general direction. "Thanks," he says to Ice Bear quietly. "And sorry for getting you involved in this nonsense."

Up close, Adia makes note of Marie's sad appearance and frowns softly to herself. Why is she here alone? Is there trouble between her and Jeff? The thought concerns her, but one thing at a time. "It's okay, Marie. I appreciate the gesture... and I appreciate what you did to help Hunter." She taps the empty chair at the table. "Can I talk to you for a little bit? There's something I need to tell you."

Ice Bear is such a nice bear that he doesn't mind helping out. Off goes the two serious business people, leaving the women to talk in 'private'.

Marie looks over at the chair, gesturing for Adia to sit, her attention going to the glass in front of her hesitantly. It's so hard to avoid those razor sharp glares Caspar was giving her earlier and she feels bad for eating up Adia's time. Without even realizing it, she's already adding to the other woman's statement, mostly trying to jump the gun out of worry or sadness.

"Go for it. Things can't get any worse lately, so you wouldn't be ruining my night. Losing people and lovers close to me, getting asked to step back from work...It's a cascade of affairs." Taking a sip of wine, she finally manages to stare over at Adia, still wearing those concealing glasses. "What's on your mind?"

Adia sits down, fussing with her scarf as she does so the ends don't get caught on the back of the chair. It gives her time to think, too, about what she's going to say, because she's unprepared. At least she's not as deer-in-the-headlights nervous as she was the last time they spoke, but it's almost a relief to her when Marie starts talking again.

Well, a relief up until it isn't. It sounds like she and Jeff broke up, or are at least on the rocks. The fact that she's been asked to ease up on her work, too, must be like salt in the wound. She bites her lip and looks down at her latte nervously. Will saying anything help, or will it only make Marie feel worse?

"I'm sorry... that sounds rough, and I really don't want to add onto your troubles. But you really deserve an explanation for my boyfriend's behavior." She tries to look Marie in the eyes, but with those sunglasses in the way, it's impossible. "It's... complicated, but long story short, an alternate of yours indirectly caused something terrible to happen to me... even though intellectually, he knows that you aren't the same person, he can't help but remember how close he came to losing me..."

It's not exactly the truth, but it's as close as she's willing to come right now. "Again, I'm sorry. And, for what it's worth, I don't hold any sort of grudge. I know you're not the same as her. And even if you were... she had her reasons for doing what she did." Adia had forgiven her long ago.

Marie listens quietly to Adia's words, not reacting negatively or positively just yet, uncertain of how she should be feeling. She's hurt Adia and Caspar, even if it wasn't her directly, but something an alternate once did. That's enough to let guilt sink into her heart, knowing full well how difficult these encounters must be. To be reminded of bad things when looking at her face. Marie sighs, taking the glasses off, placing them on the counter-top, unable to hide her sadness any longer. She's not mad that Adia came to her about this.

"You're not adding to it. When you're at rock bottom, there's not a lot left to lose. I'm glad you said something, because I'd rather come to a resolution instead of forcing us all into weird scenarios." She's trying not to seem weak here, but it's apparent that the news has caused her to rethink everything. "Without even realizing it, I've just been making matters worse. Your boyfriend has every right to be upset."

Her hand stays close to the wine glass, pondering another drink. It'll be one of many for sure, but acting like a drunkard in front of Adia isn't respectful. She just takes a few deep breaths, uncertain of what to say to fix this problem. "I'm sorry. I know apologizing won't change what's happened, but it's at least a start."

At least she's not more upset, but Adia knows that it must be a difficult thing for her to hear. Goodness knows how she'd feel if she found out an alternate of hers was responsible for something terrible. "That's my own fault," she says earnestly. "I panicked a little when I recognized you outside the café. I didn't mean to make things even weirder."

She wishes that Caspar were here to see how contrite Marie is, but she knows that he'd be too caught up in his own anger to listen with an open heart. At least she can try to ease the awkwardness between herself and Marie, while she has the chance.

"You don't have to apologize, but I appreciate it." She smiles softly at the other woman. No hard feelings. See?

Caspar is still upstairs with Ice Bear, so Adia picks up her drink for a sip, in now rush to run off, unless Marie wants her to leave.

"No need to apologize, I would've probably done the same thing." She's never dealt with the alternate thing, but it can be a hard situation to respond to. Not everything makes sense, especially Adia and Caspar's behavior towards her. Even if this conversation seems to be going better, there's a good chance that this will be the last time she actively tries to meet either one of them. It's probably for the best.

"You don't have to stick around if this whole interaction makes you uncomfortable." She's not forcing Adia to stay, but understands completely if the woman wants to go. "I imagine you're here to see your friends, after all."

It's difficult to imagine Marie reacting the way she did, had their situations been reversed, although the situation is less hypothetical than Adia would like. There's always the chance that Marie might remember the alternate timeline, or learn what really happened. What would she think of Adia, then?

"Oh, no, no. I'm not uncomfortable," she stammers quickly, then blushes and laughs sheepishly. "Okay... maybe I am a little, but not because of you, I promise." She takes a sip of her drink and adds, "I'm only here because Loki asked me to come. I'm happy to keep you company for a little while. Unless you'd rather be alone?"

The whole situation involving Adia is something only heard of in rumor mills around the Nexus: having an alternate cause mischief while another has to deal with it. No matter how hard she tries to shake the feeling, Marie is clearly troubled by it, unable to formulate sentences or words.

There's a period of silence before answering Adia's question, hazy eyes staring into the wine glass, as if searching for an answer. "It's your call. Me, I just needed something to distract my mind, no relation to the party planners at all. Not fitting in with the crowd doesn't bother me in the slightest."

That's not much of an answer, and if Adia didn't know any better, she'd interpret that as Marie wanting to be left alone but too polite to say otherwise. However, she knows that the other woman is being honest. Furthermore, she doesn't feel right leaving Marie here to drown her sorrows. That never helped anyone.

And, despite the risk of Marie learning too much, she wants to stay and help. She deserves to be happy, especially after what had happened to her in the previous timeline. She hasn't forgotten about the sacrifice Marie was willing to make to save Hunter, either.

"How about I stay until I finish the drink you got me. And if you want to share any of your troubles, I'm happy to listen."

Adia is partially right with her guess, but Marie is conflicted by many things at once and her mood could easily be contributed to that. But if Adia has no idea what she's facing, then it's easy to assume her behavior is based on the conversation they've had so far. Drowning in sorrow is the only thing she knows right now.

"Burdening you with my thoughts is unfair, don't you think? You'd take on my feelings and pain, some of which are unpleasant. Your kindness is noted, but is rude of me to take advantage of." For a brief moment, she glances up at Adia with a painful look on her face. "You're too kind, Ms. Costas. I fear that can be a weakness in certain circumstances."

Marie's comment about kindness unwittingly cuts too close to home. She drops her gaze, as if embarrassed, and takes a sip of her chai. Marie is not making it easy to get to know her. But she simply can't ignore that pained look, so she swallows, sucks in a deep breath, and looks up again.

"You're not the first person to have told me that, Marie. And I'll admit, it's gotten me into some trouble. But it's no weakness to show kindness to others. 'No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.' It's a quote from a fable of a lion and a mouse, and it's something I take to heart. You can share your burden with me, or not, but I won't take back my offer."

The statement wasn't meant to be harmful, but Marie can tell that her words have done something to Adia's mood, based on the way she looks downward. It's not easy confiding weaknesses to anyone, especially not someone who was hurt in the past. Marie sighs, running her fingers along the side of her glass in thought.

"Do you know much about Hinduism? There's an ideal known as karma, a belief in which good actions reward a person with good fortune. Do bad things and you receive a terrible future." She pauses, letting those words sink in, before continuing. "That's my life, trying to balance out karma so I can find the answers I'm looking for. Lately, my actions have cultivated a negative future that could probably be tracked back to poor decisions."

She takes her hand away from the wine glass. "People I trust have asked me to stop pushing myself so hard, take a break, but I can't. My work defines who I am and to step down, even for a little while, is simply frustrating."

Adia has not heard of karma before, but the concept is easy to understand. She sits back and listens to what Marie is willing to share with her. What answers could this woman be seeking? What poor decisions have led to her current troubles?

It's so tempting to tell Marie the truth. That this truly is the better timeline. But she suspects that the other woman would find a way to blame past mistakes on her current self. And it would certainly ruin whatever possibility there is for her to get back together with Jeff. She wants both of them to be happy.

"I know how you feel," she says quietly. "It is frustrating, to back away when you feel that drive to push forward." She looks at Marie curiously. "Can you put that drive into something else? You're a pokémon trainer, right?" She points to the decals on her jacket. "This might be a good time to give your pokémon some attention."

The answers go much deeper than one might guess, something spiritual or primal, but nothing Marie dares mention to Adia. Instead, it's so much easier to focus on other things.

"You remind me too much of another friend, except she'd want to solve all my problems with fire and zeal." She smirks a little, taking up her glass once more. "It's a fair suggestion, but the feeling still remains. The lack of human companions, the sense of purpose...Karma will catch up to me."

Another moment passes, finishing off the drink. For a brief second, it doesn't seem like she's all here, as if another being is present. "I have to keep moving forward somehow, even if I'm not sure how."

She doesn't know what friend Marie is referring to, but she'll take the comparison as a compliment. As hard as things have been for Adia at times, she's not one to wallow in self-pity for long.

"But... well, maybe I don't understand karma completely, but so long as you're living your life, don't you have a chance to do good deeds to balance out your fortune? You can't go back and change your past, but you can learn from your mistakes and strive to do better."

As she watches Marie, her feeling that there is more to this woman than she first thought grows even stronger. It doesn't change her advice, but it does make her wonder how deep in karmic debt Marie might truly be.

"I try to, yes, but there's something that I can never outrun. A past that will forever catch up to me." Marie catches her tongue, almost revealing her secret, but chooses to reveal only the bare minimum to Adia. "I have an obligation to those I couldn't save when my world died. Giving up and dying would just be a disgrace to everyone else who perished." There's no point in hiding about her world, but Marie is adamant to not let Adia know about what she went through to survive, even to this day.

"Putting myself first is selfish. My efforts have to be towards helping others, so that's why it hurts to lose everything I've fought for." Weakly, she laughs, but the way she has her hands balled up into fists shows her rising anger. "I'm more upset at being asked to step away from work than my boyfriend leaving me without saying a word. Maybe that's why the incident with Hunter resonated with me greater than it should've. I related to Electra's grief and anger."

"I'm so sorry, Marie..." A dead world, much like her own. She knows the burden that comes with Survivor's Guilt, although she can't shake the feeling that there is something that Marie is not sharing. She hasn't forgotten the woman's offer to Electra. Was there something she could have done and failed to do? Did she abuse whatever power she had on her old world?

It's not the time, nor place to ask. At least Marie isn't planning on giving up, no matter how miserable she is. That gives Adia a small measure of relief.

"My world died, too," she confesses, lest Marie think that her sympathy is superficial. "It's true, we cannot outrun our past. But I do believe we can make peace with it."

Marie's double loss makes more sense, in that context. It must feel like karma catching up to her. She takes a small sip of chai, glancing worriedly at those balled up fists. Marie might take her professional loss harder than her personal loss, but Adia is more concerned about what happened with Jeff. "He left you? I-- I'm sorry to hear that. Was it because of the secret he was keeping from you?"

"Things happen, Adia. There's a lot of people who come to the Nexus without a place to go, so our situation is just one of many. The best thing we can do is try to stabilize, live on for those who did not. At least, that's the mantra I keep telling myself. It's hard not to think about my parents and friends, wondering if they actually received a peaceful death or if there's some vicious cycle where they're forced to suffer." The Nexus has altered her ideals quite a bit, making her ponder how the afterlife works quite thoroughly. Although, she wants to counter Adia's statement with her own, about how a power she never wanted was forced onto her, making the thought of peace difficult.

Her anger seems to ease up, hands uncurling, but still visibly tense. Talking about Jeff is a rarity, since she's been keeping her feelings compounded within for weeks. It feels weird using Adia as a literal dumping ground, but the other woman did offer to hear her problems. The specific details where she cheated and spied on Jeff are calmly left off the table. "It just didn't work out, that's all. We have conflicting personalities and it finally came to an end. I just wish I could've done more before everything came crashing down. Helping someone who has no self-confidence is harder than is looks."

Again, something that Marie has said seems to have struck a nerve within Adia. She silently winces, taking another hurried sip of chai. Has she trapped Marie in a viscous cycle with her alteration of the timeline? Has she doomed the other woman to relive her suffering and repeat her mistakes?

No. No, this timeline is better. Adia has to believe that. Not just for people whose lives she's saved, but for Marie, too.

"My people believe that the universe works in cycles. That everything that's happened before will happen again. But it's never the same. One small variable can make a difference. I'm sure you've already made a difference in the lives of the people you've helped."

Like Jeff, she can't help but think. They were happy together once, weren't they? Even if the relationship is truly over, it didn't end in murder. She listens quietly to Marie's response. If she knew about the spying, she'd have a much better understanding of what went wrong, but even with this censored reply, she has a vague sense of what happened.

"That's hard," she says sympathetically. "But that's not something you can fix in another person. He needs to make his own path to self-improvement."

Even if Marie knew about Adia's past, it wouldn't change what happened to her before coming to the Nexus. That fate was set in stone years ago and those weaknesses from years of trying to survive an apocalyptic world will always be present.

Adia's comment causes Marie to frown, no longer calm like before. There's no way she can tell Adia about her primal nature, that she must kill humans in order to survive, lest her sanity be lost. No matter how many good deeds she's done, nothing outweighs the need to slaughter. "Perhaps you're right..." It's a weak, cover-up answer, but one that tries to paint Marie in a fetal position, appear depressed and in sorrow.

"I wish him all the best in his endeavors. There's no hatred in my heart towards his decision."

There's more going on here. Marie's words and body language don't match. "Like you said. You have to keep moving forward, the alternative is unacceptable." She smiles softly, but it's obvious that something else is on her mind. She's not about to badger Marie for the whole story, though.

And anyway, it's not like she's being honest, either. She's not about to tell Marie that she already knows all about Jeff. It makes her uncomfortable, though, to keep that a secret, and it's a little while before she replies, her gaze on her half-finished chai.

"We can wish others the best... but it still hurts. I know how that is, too. You think you'll ever see him again?"

"I highly doubt it. He left on his own, and the Nexus is vast, so there's thousands of worlds to escape to." She wants to say more, but lingering on her loneliness only opens her up to more probing questions. Marie has no intent of telling Adia that she'll be doing her best to not interact with her or Caspar once this conversation resolves. Her gaze drifts over at Adia's drink, as if silently assessing how much longer she'll stick around. Honestly, Marie wants to stay around and get thoroughly drunk, but not while Adia is watching, but she's tempted to step away and rejoin this 'party' later on.

"I appreciate your company, even if it was for a little while. However, I imagine your boyfriend wants some time with you." She stands up, taking a moment to ensure all of her belongings are claimed, before nodding to Adia. "I'm glad we were able to talk about our problems openly."

"Oh, you don't have to --" But Marie is already on her feet. Whether Adia is done with her drink or not, this conversation is clearly over.

Shouldn't she be relieved about that? Isn't this what she wanted? To stay out of Jeff and Marie's way? So why does it feel more like resignation instead?

She gives Marie a weak smile, not putting up more of a protest. Me, too," she replies, though the words feel like a lie. She'll have to take comfort in the fact that an attempt was made. They can go their separate ways with no hard feelings. "Take care of yourself, Marie."

"Don't worry about me anymore, okay? You've got a good life and guy at your side, so enjoy that." In a rare moment. she reaches up and touches Adia's shoulder gently, a forlorn smile slipping onto her face. She's not jealous at how Adia has her life together, but rather, Marie wishes she could get over her own weaknesses as well as the other woman has. For someone who has money, confidants and a stable life, there's something sad about believing one's own world is full of loneliness due to an irreplaceable curse.

That's why she can never truly have friends, for fear of hurting them. No one can really know about her demon lineage, at the risk of losing everything.

"Goodbye, Adia." Those words are said with the intent of hopefully never seeing her again. Without saying another word, she's out the door of the Crossroads Cafe, destination unknown.

The touch surprises her. Impulsively, she reaches up to briefly lay her hand over Marie's, meeting the other woman's sad smile with a more authentic expression. She was once in Marie's place -- alone, bereaved, lost without a purpose. If Marie can't find solace in her words, then she can only hope that one of the redhead's friends will step in and bolster her spirits.

It's not Adia's place. Even if she feels responsible.

"Bye," she echoes softly, watching Marie leave.

In a moment, Caspar will come down the stairs, pretending to be casual but failing miserably, and join her company. He'll put his arms around her and tell her that it's for the best that Marie is out of their lives, and she'll agree.

But for now, she can't help but wish the conversation had gone differently.

Jim is likewise not here alone, though he will be when Adia and Caspar arrive on scene. It's incredibly hard to keep an eye on Felix during these kinds of things.

"You know, Caspar, I was just looking over this warp coefficient and I--" He cuts himself off with a chuckle. "Kidding. Good to see you guys again."

"Don't tease me like that," Caspar complains, an amiable smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. After all the magic and supernatural he's dealt with lately, he'd enjoy the science talk.

"Good to see you, too." Adia smiles warmly, shoulders relaxed. Parties aren't really her thing, but she can handle a smaller gathering of familiar faces. "You've met Loki? Or... one of them, anyway? I only know the older-looking one."

Oh Caspar, Jim more than understands the discomfort. At least none of the new recruits are wearing your dead father's face amidst all their rippling pectorals. But Felix has new gods to conjure and play nice with, so of course Jim's along for the ride.

"Couldn't resist." He quips quietly to Caspar before taking a sip of his drink and turning his gaze toward Adia instead. "Mmh. Same. Though I suppose I've just met the younger one tonight." He's going to have to try really hard to not let himself get too drunk tonight. His tolerance has been shit ever since he stopped being dead.

"I wasn't aware this was a preferred method of ritual prayer but here we are."

If anyone here resembled one of the Final Five, his creators, he would be far more than discomforted. He's doing okay, for now. Crossroads Café is familiar territory, and he suspects that Katsuya and Ice Bear would clean house real quick if a genuine problem arose.

Also, Cricket gave him a jar of moonshine, and unlike the stuff on Atlantis, he's actually enjoying it. "Another time, then," he replies before taking another sip of the good stuff.

"Ritualized prayer?" Adia considers this, smiling a little in thought. "Well... I know some gods love a really good party in their name. Loki is part of the Norse pantheon, and they really like to have a good time." Flagons of mead and whole roasted ox good time.

Katsuya does have a healthy does of diecide in his resume but for tonight he's mostly here to make sure no one's trying to get the kids here drunk and to make sure nothing gets destroyed amidst all the partying. Is that a dinosaur?! Excuse him.

Jim, meanwhile, is content with his glass of something incredibly bright blue while he watches the people flitting about the cafe.

"A joke, slightly. I have to wonder if Felix would call it that. Or if it's that far off from the truth. I don't know much about magic and gods, so it all seems equally ridiculous to me sometimes."

Adia doesn't know enough about Felix's pantheon to decide if Loki would be a familiar sort of god to him or not. She doesn't get a chance to speculate, because Caspar is raising his moonshine jar in a genuine toast to Jim.

"Yes, ridiculous Thank you. I thought I was the last person in the multiverse to believe that."

"Caspar." Adia's voice has dropped dramatically in volume, her gaze darting around her. "Seriously, we are at a party thrown by gods, this isn't the place to --"

"Sorry, sorry." Caspar mollifies her with a kiss on the cheek. "I'm just longing for a day in the Nexus that doesn't involve curses or vengeful goddesses. I'm sure Jim agrees with me. The other Jim certainly would."

Well Nords do exist on Nirn in some fashion (which is still weird to Jim and he hasn't quite figured out how to feel about that) so it's definitely not out of the realm of possibility. Jim will meet that toast with a smile on his face before taking a sip of his own drink.

And he will be glad to have that drink to hide behind at the pause he gives while he listens to Caspar and Adia bicker amicably. The other Jim? Caspar's very likely not wrong, but...Well, best to not draw attention to it. It's an unsettling thought for Jim.

"It can all be a bit much, coming from a world with no gods to speak of. Feels like they're falling out of every closet these days."

Caspar's thinking specifically of Hunter's trial of the Seven Sisters, in this case. But he'll bet that by this point, both Jims have had their run-ins with the Divine. How can one not, around here?

And then Jim voices exactly what he's thinking and he can't help but chuckle wryly. Although some of that humor is lost when he thinks back to the Spring Revelry. "So long as one doesn't pop out of my wardrobe back home."

Adia looks away, feeling a trifle guilty. If a god were to somehow end up on Atlantis, it would likely be because of her. "Some of them are very nice," she says, in their defense. "The Nexus is probably a respite for them. Being a god is hard."

Jim checks his tongue before he lets any more irreverence pass his lips. He's not unaware of where he is right now, and under whose banner this party is for. Moreover, Felix's entire professional career is based around finding and befriending gods. Trying to do get on their good side for whatever aims he might need them for later. If Jim undermines that with his own confusion and skepticism it wouldn't be great for Felix.

His own late night lessons in the world of Nirn and their beliefs stir up from the silt in his mind now. Jim gives a slow nod.

"I'm sure some of them are." He concedes to Adia instead, a smile on his face that's as much his own self restraint as it is to comfort his friend. "Felix has mentioned the gods do not have such an easy time before."

It's a smart decision, one that Caspar should try to abide. He'll take a cue from Jim and ease up on the snark. In fact, when he sees that hint of guilt on his girl's face, he drops his smirk entirely and gives her a reassuring squeeze around the waist. He can behave. See?

"Felix would know," she says thoughtfully. "Are there really no gods where you're from, Jim? Or is it that the gods people worship don't make themselves known, like where I'm from?"

That's a hell of a question to ask a man.

It reminds Jim that if he answers how he feels honestly it would be so much hubris to claim such a thing. Opening himself up for trouble should he in fact be wrong. But he's read up on how the aedra and daedra of Nirn work enough to be at least more confident than most. So he shrugs at first before offering a slow nod.

"If there were gods in my plane they've got to be near dead by now." If not wiped out entirely. "They require prayer at least on Nirn. Belief and devotion to exist. Without that, even if they live they can't do anything. And most of the Federation believes there can't be anything like that in our galaxy. Even Earth has by and large become atheist. If they exist, good for them. They don't interfere in our affairs or care. But no one who does magic or anything that relies on divine power or aether can control their powers well on my world either. Leads me to think there must not be much of it, if any, in my plane."

Considering that she and Loki have already had a rather lengthy conversation about gods and faith, she's unconcerned about asking it at his own party. Jim's answer is met with a thoughtful look, and perhaps a touch of sadness, too. She'd hate for the gods she's come to know and like to fade away into nothing.

"Felix has trouble with his magic when he's visiting you?" That's certainly powerful evidence of a lack of divine authority.

"Is it too late to relocate there?" Caspar mutters, before quickly taking another sip of moonshine.

"Loki and I talked a little bit about the power of belief," Adia says to Jim, ignoring Caspar's commentary. "I think he'd agree with your hypothesis. I'm not sure how it is on my world. I know some people believe the gods helped us find Earth... and some weird things did happen to lead up to that..."

"If you're referring to any Cylon weirdness, there's a good explanation for all of that."

Adia looks at Caspar and nods, although her pensive expression remains. "There's my moon rune, too," she adds quietly. "But maybe it's different when it's something granted to you on another world..."

It's not as though gods can't exist in other worlds. Loki and Thor are proof enough of that. Plus, well. Jim's never able to remember his encounter with Felix's patron daedra very well. It's always a half formed thought he can never seem to grasp fully in his hands. It eats at him, not being able to remember.

It was an important meeting, he's pretty sure. One he still sees in his dreams. Only he doesn't even know if they're nightmares or not. It's always gone when Jim wakes.

"Everyone does. Not just folks from Nirn. But I've...met...one. In their own realm before. I think. There's definitely not anything like--" Sam. Sam? That was his brother's name. His brother's smile and an easy laugh. And the debt. The debt to yet be repaid. Why can't Jim remember? "Nothing like that being in my world."

It sounds like Jim only half-remembers his encounter. He's seen that same distant, preoccupied look on Adia's face sometimes when she's staring at the full moon. Like she's a million miles away, or caught up in a dream. He instinctively wraps an arm around her waist, as if to reassure himself that she's still here.

Adia notices, too, but she doesn't draw attention to it. Encounters with gods can be difficult to describe. "I've felt the same thing. Not at all like aliens, or even some kinds of magic." She pauses, then admits sheepishly, "Although I did assume Loki's brother, Thor, was an alien when I first met him."

"An alien who's a thousand years old and uses magic?" Caspar interjects, his dry amusement returning.

Adia rolls her eyes. "It's the Nexus, anything's possible. You must know some aliens who live a lot longer than humans, Jim?"

"Thor is..."

Jim grimaces and shakes his head. No matter how many times the god of Thunder comes up, all Jim sees in his head are the old holos of George Kirk. He's trying to get better about it but it's a slow process.

"Oh! Yeah actually." This is a much better topic of conversation. "Vulcans live a lot longer than humans do. The older Spock has gotta be well over 300 by now, for one. And he's only half Vulcan. They can live longer than that."

Thor is... what? Adia tilts her head a little in confusion. Why would Jim have such a strange reaction to his name? "Have you met him?" she asks tentatively. "He's very nice... the most personable god that I've met, by far."

But, if Jim wants to drop that part of the conversation, she won't pick it back up. All this talk of gods might be tempting fate too much.

"He looks good for over 300," Caspar says casually, quietly impressed. He only met the older Spock once, but he enjoyed their conversation. And this was back when he was new to the Nexus and barely spoke to anyone.

"Are they the longest lived in the Federation? What about the..." Darn, what was the name of the pig people who liked to argue? It takes Adia a long moment to remember. "...the Tellarites? Or the Andorians?"

"I have, yeah. Nice enough guy, but he's a dead ringer for my...for someone from my world."

Can't even say it's someone Jim knows, what with him never actually having the chance to meet his father. Everything he knows of George Kirk is nothing but legacy and stories. How fitting for the man who resembles the late George Kirk to be so much more than just a man. It fits the long shadow his legacy has cast over Jim.

"Vulcans live the longest out of any of the Federation species, and Spock is exceptionally old for his kind. On average the rest of us generally only live to be about a hundred, give or take a few years." It won't occur to Jim int he least that human life expectancy isn't that much in other times or on other worlds.

"Oh." Adia nods in understanding. That must be terribly awkward, for a person you're familiar with on your world to share the face with a god. She catches Caspar opening his mouth and turns towards him. "How's the moonshine?" she asks him brightly. "Is it good?"

The Cylon presses his lips together in the faintest of pouts. He was about to ask Jim who Thor resembled. Busted! "...good enough," he says finally, before taking another sip.

"Only a hundred," Adia says with a soft laugh, moving the conversation along. "We should all be so lucky, Jim. Maybe as our healthcare improves, we will be. How curious that the Vulcans live so much longer. Do you think it's because of their blood? Or are there other physiological differences?"

"If it wasn't flavored with berries, I'd be trying that already. It certainly smells good." Good taste, Caspar. Thankfully Jim's brought his own drink for the occasion and Felix is scoping out the area to find something he can have safely.

"Why's that funny?" His eyes narrow in confusion, only to go a bit wide. Adia's world has tech that makes his own seem dated in a lot of cases. He'd sort of assumed... "Humans don't, in your time?"

"I'm sure if you asked Cricket to make you a berry-free moonshine, he'd be on that right away." He's never met someone so enthusiastic about moonshine. Except his neighbor, Seth, but the difference is that Cricket actually knows what he's doing.

The fact that he doesn't follow up his statement with any sort of sarcasm has Adia looking at him thoughtfully. She knows that the two of them had a conversation at this very party. Must have gone well! She smiles briefly, then returns her attention to Jim.

"We can live to a hundred, but it's pretty rare. Our lifespan is closer to eighty."

"If I could drink enough to warrant asking for a batch of anything substantial I'd ask. As it stands I'll keep my ear out and see if he comes up with anything that sounds promising. He oughta satisfy his clients' tastes before a lightweight like me."

It's probably always going to sting that he can't drink the way he used to before his death but Jim's come along enough to realize that it's a lot better for his health that he can't. Plus if he gets stupid drunk easily it means Felix can drag him away from trouble while he's still mostly sober. In theory.

"Only...but..Wow." There's a bunch of questions Jim wants to ask suddenly, but he's struck by how inappropriate many of them might come across. After all, there's probably a really good reason why medical advancements were stalled for so long. Things like a war, and the near end of humanity, for example. Caspar nor Adia will want to talk about that especially given their relationship. Jim nods slowly and licks at his bottom lip out of nervous habit before he makes himself shut his mouth. When he tries again he opts for the diplomatic approach.

"Well, but you have allies now to bounce new ideas off of. We didn't develop our medical tech over night. Even before the Federation was officially in existence collaborating with Vulcan scientists helped a lot."

Caspar nods absently, taking another sip of moonshine. He's probably as much of a lightweight as Jim, and as much as he enjoys a high-quality drink, he's not about to over sample. Him, loosen the reins on his inhibitions and let his emotions take the wheel?

Nope. Not in public, anyway.

Jim's reaction has both human and Cylon alike looking at him curiously. Is that really such a strange thing to learn? If that twenty years' difference is a loss to her, she doesn't show it. "We are branching into new avenues of tech, it's true," she replies, her tone equally diplomatic. "But, um..."

"They aren't learning anything from us," Caspar says flatly, saving her the trouble. "Cylon medicine is terrible. What's the point of saving a life if there's a new body to download into, am I right?" His lips tighten into a bitter smirk. "We had a virus on one of our basestars and the solution was to cut it from the network. That's about as high tech as we got."

"It's better now," Adia says softly. "The Cylons are learning about their own physiology, and human-based medicine is sufficient for most things."

It wouldn't be so strange if he was talking to someone from Viatorus' time, back in the 2000s or the like but Jim's often found a lot of the tech in Adia's world to be comparable or more advanced than his own. It's a stark reminder of how fortunate his time is, for all it's many many faults.

And then Caspar all but confirms the image Jim's starting to get about the state of affairs. Caspar who is, just by his existence, something that his world and time couldn't even fathom how to replicate. The differences between worlds never cease to amaze him.

"You'll walk forward together though. That's important." For the Cylons to continue to exist, it's gotta be critical for it Jim figures. Everyone's got to learn how to change together.

It's been.... a while. Since Alastor's had a milkshake. Somewhat unsurprisingly, Hell wasn't terrifically big on them. A bit too pure an image to enjoy, perhaps?

Whatever the case may be, this little party's door is soon darkened enough, Alastor no doubt having picked up on it being a thing through the grape vine and just decided to invite himself.

Because really, who's going to tell him to go away?

Of course the first person he's going to head straight for is Loki, why wouldn't he? He'd so far been one of the more... interesting people he'd met here. Again, wasn't every day someone could play by the demons unspoken rules, he found that pretty intriguing.

"Well hey there, stranger! Heard you had a bit of a shindig goin' on here, thought I'd stop by to visit! This seat taken?" If it was, it's his now anyway, hi.

Loki would not have texted Alastor to invite him, honestly, even if he had contact information for him. In general, he feels the more the merrier, but he's just wary enough that he wouldn't want to expose his alternate to this individual. He's sure that he is very, very dangerous to a human. Whether he's powerful enough to be a danger to a god, he can't tell yet.

So sue him, he's a little protective of his poor, doomed twin. Harley, too, although really they can both handle themselves.

But there's no harm in having a milkshake. He'll just be keeping a close eye on Alastor for the duration. In fact, when he sees him approach, he stands and beams like he was expecting him. "Hello, yourself," he says. "It's an informal celebration; no assigned seats. By all means."

He resettles in his previous place. His milkshake cup is long since empty, but he's got coffee he's nursing, now, and a pile of broken cherry stems, one of which is in a very bent-up approximation of a knot.

At present, other than being impossibly creepy, he doesn't seem to be making any active attempts at jackassery. Who knew as the night continued? For now though, it apparently pleased him more to play by the rules, settling into a seat quite comfortably.

"What's the occasion? Isn't Thanksgiving for another week!" As if Nordic Gods celebrated recently crafted American holidays, he knew better really.

Getting a milkshake for himself though, eying the pile of twisted cherry stems.

"What's goin' on with these?"

That is one point with which Loki does not feel he can contend with the demon. Loki can be unsettling; he can even project psychopathy, but he's not sure he can match him for creepy.

While the demon gets his milkshake, Loki does a quick glance around the room for Adia, but even if she is, his gaze won't linger on her. He's already given her a rough description of Alastor. Between that and her rune, she can easily put two and two together, he's certain. Drawing attention to her is the last thing he wants.

"The occasion is that I have a lead on something that might actually get me drunk, which is a rare event. This is merely the pre-event warmup. If you'd like to taste faery liquor, by all means stick around. But drink your milkshake first."

Oh, the stems. Loki glances at the pile and sighs, picking up the one sad little knot he's managed. "They call me Silver-Tongued, but it apparently applies only to speech, and not any kind of innate lingual flexibility. At least not where cherry stems are concerned. This is the best knot I can manage."

"You'll try, as well, though, I hope?" His lips twitch a little. Fearsome dark hellbeast or not, he really wants to know if Alastor can tie a cherry stem with his tongue.

Everything pertaining to getting and eating that milkshake? Perfectly normal, perhaps somewhat incongruous to the way Alastor... was, in general. Perfectly polite to the person taking his order, and perfectly neat when enjoying the drink itself, if not almost to an obscene degree. Meticulous and clean, napkins at the ready. There was no need to get sloppy.

"Not usually one for public drinking, my friend, just a night cap now and then." Which didn't rule out drinking. Just not here!

He nudged at one of the knots with a long, sharpened claw, clearly interested in the idea of it.

"Well, I don't see why I can't have a little fun over here! Why not? Gimme some cherries, Loki, lets see what I got."

"Nor am I, normally," Loki agrees. "Although I find my physiology prevents me from taking any ill effects from all but the most powerful spirits."

He's small, tiny by Jotun standards, but he's still got a tremendous resistance to poisons. "Every now and then, though, everyone needs to indulge, don't you think?"

He chuckles, legitimately delighted by Alastor's willingness to make an attempt at stem-tying, and rises without protest to sweep across to the counter and order another bowl of cherries from poor beleaguered Ice Bear. He returns a moment later and sets them in front of Alastor, taking one off the top for himself.

"If this establishment has any cherries left by the time we're all through, I'm going to look for the magic tree they must have in the back."

"I'd sure think a God would be able to take a couple shots better than a mortal would, ain't at all surprised to hear it, friend! Might stick around to see if you do get smashed, might be fun!" Would be fun rather, he was sure.

Loki was wonderfully put together after all, it'd be interesting to see what would happen if it was all pulled apart.

Alastor snagged two for a set of four, all of them vanishing into that fanged maw at once. "You should try soaking them in that faery liqour next time! Makes an awful nice drink when you're through, and you can get a little somethin' from the cherries. Somethin' I had to learn after dyin' of course, wasn't legal until after the accident."

"Are you quite sure of that? What if I'm a mean drunk?" Historically, Loki is actually more giggly when intoxicated than anything else, but he's avoided the experience for a long time.

It occurs to him that being vulnerable around the demon, even if merely tipsy, it a risky proposition. He's not going to let that disrupt the evening's plans, though. He'll just make sure to keep a protective eye on the other Loki.

"Soak the cherries in liquor? That...sounds delicious, actually." Loki seems to be making another attempt on the cherry stem, tucking it into his cheek. The expression that results from it all is a blend of concentration and half-guilty amusement.

"The accident that resulted in your death," he says, inferring from Alastor's speech. "Dare I ask how that happened? No need to explain if it's a bring-down, but I can't help but be curious."

"Won't know until we see it, now will we?" Mean, giggly, sleepy or hungry, it didn't really matter to Alastor. For a short time, the mask would be tossed aside, and he was all for seeing what could possibly be under it.

Whether or not he'd get his wish though, well. That was another story.

"Absolutely delicious, sir, wish I'd had some of it when I was alive!" And four more vanished in, without having even bothered to spit the stems of the previous set out.

"Nasty affair, I'm gonna be honest with you! But I think you can take it, don't seem like the fainting type!

Afraid I got caught up in an errant blast of buckshot!" Among other things, the demon's mortal death on earth was a bit more grisly than merely getting shot. But there was no need to get into that.

Loki has several layers of masks resting on top of a labyrinth of personal issues, so how many of his metaphorical inner demons will come out to play, and which ones, is hard to predict. Time will tell, although at the moment he's just terribly focused on making sure his alternate has a pleasant time.

But that may say something about what's going on in and of itself.

"You're doing quite a number on those cherries," he comments mildly. "Are you eating the stems?"

The prospect of a gruesome story distracts him from wondering where the demon is putting those cherry stems. He raises an eyebrow and gives an attentive nod. "I'm not impossible to shock, but very difficult. Buckshot, is it? Was it very painful?"

Loki, why are you asking these questions?

It would be telling! Certainly would reveal to Alastor a soft, warm, squishy part of the otherwise cool persona he'd seen so far of the other man.

He'd answer the cherry question, but there seemed to be another one being asked that was obviously far more interesting than where the hell all the stems were going.

"Well from what I remember of it! Good thing is, you only got so much blood, so everything's on a timer." Must have gotten hit bad, but not bad enough where he'd be so lucky as to die instantly.

Bled out fast though.

"But it's been eighty five years since I died, memory's gotten a bit fuzzy! What happens to dead folks where you are, Loki? There a heaven and hell over there?"

He has a soft spot for his alternate, his brother (though that's better hidden), and some of his human acquaintances. What he does with that on any given day can vary. It's not impossible that he would manipulate or even lash out at the people he likes best. Depending what he needs from them, whether he can see any gain from it, and how they might react.

"I have never been a great fan of physical pain," he says. "Not even in other people. There is something undignified about the faces they make, and the sounds. It's unseemly. Grotesque. A quick, sharp death is less so. A shame yours was so messy."

That's not quite sympathy, but it's a polite concession to something near to it.

"I've had my neck broken of late, in the interest of full disclosure, but I am not convinced I actually died of it." More like he just fucking refuses to be dead, maybe. Hard to say. Gods are susceptible to will, and story, and magic.

"We are told that the afterlife is either Valhalla or Fólkvangr. Odin's hall, or Freya's, where those who died a noble death may heal and dwell and celebrate. Then there is Hel, over which my sister once claimed rule, apparently. The less noble end up there. The way it is described in stories makes it sound more tedious than horrific. Cold and dark and dull."

He shrugs. "I have visited none of these places, and do not expect to be welcomed into Valhalla under any circumstances, but as to whether there are more complicated options...well, I should hope there are. It all sounds a little black and white for my taste."

Not everyone in the Cafe is supposed to be there. Certain people might be less welcome owing to their behavior the last time they got in. Well, make that the last few times.

There's a flash of black beneath the tables, a whirr of wings up to the back of an empty seat nearby. A small dark head peers over a Loki's shoulder at their table. They have a lot of small, red, glossy foods. The Knave of Rooks doesn't have to know what cherries are to decide he wants them.

Anyway, the featherless wizards are busy... pulling faces? How peculiar yet convenient. He can wait until they seem distracted. Then he dives for the edge of the table, claws digging in and wings a-flapping. He snatches as many of the shiny tidbits from the plate as he can stuff in his beak, all set to take off with them. It's ~~daylight~~ twilight robbery!

Not expected in the least. Loki wasn't expecting the sudden arrival of a black, feathery thief, blinking a long moment as the corvid was bravely stuffing his beak before bursting into laughter.

"What's the rush, friend?" He asked in a cheery tone, reaching out to... nudge the plate a bit closer to the bird. Not the weirdest tablemate he's ever had, not by a longshot.

The bird halts for a moment, hanging awkwardly off the table, beak fairly jammed with fruit as he cocks a beady eye at Loki. Clearly he understands when he's spoken to, but if he opens his mouth he's going to spill cherries everywhere.

Actually what happens is that he loses his precarious grip and tumbles beneath the table lip in a scuffle of feathers. If he does lose some (or most) of his cherries, he's not about to admit it. But it's only a minute before he lands on the table, properly this time, and gives them both a good hard look before he grabs a new cherry off the plate. It's a bit unclear how to take this, since this no longer feels like stealing and he didn't demand... hmm.

"The Court accepts your tribute, featherless." Aha! There. It makes sense retroactively. Now he can peck at the juicy not-meat to his heart's content.

Loki just barely stifles a laugh at that undignified spill, hiding behind taking a long drink from his shake until both he is able to manage a straight face, and hte bird manages to hop back up onto the table. Tribute? Oh dear no, feathery buddy.

"Oh no my feathery friend, it's not a tribute." Better to correct the misconception right? "Merely sharing with friends old and new."

It's somewhat amusing to be the featherless one in the conversation nowadays.

Definitely better to clear that up. The Knave swallows down the last of his cherry and hops back a step, the better to cock his head and eye Loki again.

"Friends? You would name yourself crow-friend?" Well, he did give you food, Knave, that's a pretty powerful argument in his favor...

"Magpies and crows are brothers in arms, are they not?" Loki replied simply, popping a cherry into his mouth with a raise of his brows.

As are corvids and trickster gods, but until he knows just how much this bird will understand of such a concept he's not worrying about that part.

It must be said, the Knave is by no means the sharpest beak in the murder. He is, fortunately, savvy enough not to loose any snobbish comments on pie-plumaged ne'er-do-wells. Another cherry goes safely down his gullet before the crow hops closer, head angled as he looks Loki up and down keenly. There is certainly something peculiarly familiar about this one; alas, he's not quite the bird to understand it.

"Our noble cousins, yes. There are none within our dominion, but we have met them before. But you are no magpie, featherless. Wizard or not."

He's almost certain.

If asked later, Loki will blame this on Cricket. Which is completely unjust, because he had already made the suggestion to get drunk long before the little moonshiner showed up with his mason jars.

What does it take to get a god intoxicated? Probably faery wine, or something even more frighteningly strong. They'll find out.

The second Felix heard there was a party being thrown by the gods of Mischief themselves Jim Kirk knew any plans they might have had for the evening (and let's be honest probably the next day) were tossed out the window.

Not wanting to be an ungracious guest, the captain makes sure to bring a couple bottles of some far off alien liqueur to contribute to the shindig. Always a decent contribution to any social gathering aside from an AA meeting.

"I don't recognize that vintage."

For such a big guy, when Thor sneaks up on somebody, it tends to be entirely accidental. He's wearing casual clothes that could almost pass for Earth fashion, rather than the armor, so that probably helps him blend in a little at first glance. He already has a drink in hand, which is mostly empty already, yet this doesn't stop him from peering at the labels of the bottles in the captain's hands.

The casual clothes just make it worse in some ways, but Jim manages to keep his face arranged in a perfectly polite smile when he startles and turns around no matter how much he dreads seeing the god wearing George Kirk's face in person again. Unless it's Loki trying to fuck with him again. Which it might be?

You never can tell with gods.

"I frequent a different corner of the galaxy and a different universe altogether than you, that's hardly surprising." He talks so differently though. That helps. That and the eyepatch. Just focus on those things, Jim. His smile relaxes a little bit before he nods to both bottles of bright blue liquid sitting on the table.

"Andorian ale. Always impresses at a party. I think folks like the color as much as they do the taste of it."

If any of Kirk's suspicion or discomfort shows on his face, Thor doesn't seem to notice, picking up one of the bottles to admire the jewel-like blue sheen to it. "I can see why. I love a good ale, but brown beers can be found in any corner of the galaxy. It's good to branch out a little, once in a while."

To that end, he's going to pour himself a sample. Just a little; he'd hate to drink it all himself before anyone else can take a crack at it. This is a party, after all.

"Stronger than most beers. It's served in shot glasses where I'm from."

Still, Jim doubts that will mean much to a god. He gestures at Thor to help himself and moves to find himself a clean glass to get a bit for himself too. When in doubt of whether one can or can't have something, it's best to always bring your own. Might be the other reason Jim's brought plenty of booze to add to the stores.

"I won't be able to get such a variety as easily soon, so might as well have the excuse to do it now."

Shot glasses? Right, those incredibly tiny thimbles that Midgardians seem to enjoy using for concentrated liquors. Well, he'll just have to test the strength of this particular brew, then, and he passes the bottle to Kirk once his shot is poured.

"Always wise to seize the opportunity to make merry," Thor agrees, and sniffs at the blue ale. It has a pungent scent, tantalizing and fruity, very unlike the meads and ales he's used to. He doesn't quite throw the shot back either, unwilling to skip the actual tasting part. "I see why this is a popular choice," he says with a broad smile, and it's too bad that breaking glasses is inappropriate behavior for Earth because this drink deserves it. Well, if he can't honor it by that particular custom, he'll certainly pour a second one. Just to be certain.

"I mean, it probably won't do anything for a God's constitution, but it's stronger than the ales most humans drink, at any rate." Jim knows all about the tolerance levels that can exist out there, his doppelganger being among those who no longer gets any buzz from the good ol' booze.

"Right? A break away from the ordinary and mundane, though I'm sure that's my species talking." His comms officer always thinks its strange for people to make a big deal out of it but then again, he is Andorian.

"Do you dabble much in human alcohol even if it doesn't do anything for you?"

In Thor's experience, humans tend to come in two flavors: those that wish to live comfortable, uncomplicated, familiar lives, and those who would rather experience every wonder the universe has to offer. It's not hard to tell which category Jim Kirk belongs to. "If enjoying a party is a character flaw, then, it's one we share."

He still can't wink. Dammit.

The question makes him chuckle. "Of course. I'm always up for trying new things, and Earth's had centuries to invent new and exciting brews. Food, too. No one did feasts quite so massive as Asgard did," he says, and there's a touch of nostalgic regret in his voice for a moment, "but after a thousand years of the same ingredients, over and over, it's nice to branch out a bit."

One they share, huh. And the smile. Jim swallows a bit roughly and nods but doesn't say anything yet. Guess Loki really didn't tell Thor about their little chat together at the cafe recently. Jim looks around for a glass and pours himself a full one of the ale before he starts to sip at it.

Might as well get this over with.

"I have to...apologize. For some of my demeanor since we've met."

"Apologize?"

What is with the humans here that feel the need to make amends for slights he hasn't even noticed? Blushing, stammering incoherence from his fans is expected, as is the casual irreverence he gets from his brothers and sisters in arms, some of whom treated him as such from day one. But some seem to think he's going to smite them at the smallest insult, and... okay, in his younger and stupider days he would have postured and blustered to soothe his wounded pride, but Thor likes to think he's made progress on that front. So much so that he's not entirely sure what Kirk thinks he's done.

Well, from his previous experience with Adia's completely unneeded apology, he thinks he has a decent stab at guessing the problem. (He's wrong, but still.) "It's all right, I'm sure you don't run into gods every day."

"Yeah I--"

Jim trails off when Thor tries to brush it off tactfully and raises an eyebrow. Is that something he gets a lot of? Granted, there haven't been that many gods running around the Nexus but still.

"Wh--no. I don't care about that. So much. It's you specifically that's the...well. You've heard how strange things happen in the Nexus, right? The reason I was so skittish when we met is because." Courage, Jim. It's not the same. "Because you're a buffed up copy of someone important from my world. Looks wise, anyway."

What? It's not the god thing? Thor had been so certain that was the problem that he's actually surprised to learn it's not.

Alternates are one thing; Thor already has plenty of personal experience on that front, with two Lokis around, and two Steve Rogerses. But a Thor who isn't Thor? One who sounds like a scrawny stick of a man, even. The theory may be sound, but that doesn't make it any less strange to hear.

"Someone important? Some kind of figure of authority?" Whether it's another Thor or not, he's not sure how he'd handle finding out this apparent doppelganger of his isn't in charge of something.

"...A hero to the Federation." Why does it feel so much like he's trying to explain this to his old man? It's too late to back out now, even if Jim is fighting with everything he has to keep emotion out of his voice and only mostly succeeding. He tries ot recite it like it's a textbook lesson.

It's not as though George Kirk isn't also in those.

"Saved the lives of hundreds of people for the scant minutes he was in charge of anything. Made sure there'd be survivors to warn about the threat they found." He's staring holes into Thor's eyepatch now, the only safe place to look at him.

"....So yeah. Someone important."

A frown furrows Thor's brow as he listens, his one-eyed gaze fixed on Kirk, watching the way the human clenches his jaw like he's bracing himself against an onslaught. He's familiar enough with war to read between the lines, to understand what it means for a man to be declared a hero after buying time for others to escape. Heroes like that generally don't get to see the feast thrown in their honor, after, not outside the halls of Valhalla itself.

But that look on Kirk's face. Either this man was a close friend, one whose memory is so cherished that seeing his visage on another man is a spear to the heart, or he was someone the captain dislikes so strongly that he can't stand the sight of Thor's face. Either way... awkward.

"Ah," he says, feeling somewhat as if he's standing in a minefield, uncertain just where to place his next step. If he guesses wrong, it'll be an insult either way, and especially after what happened at the equinox, he's a little more wary of causing offense. Best to take a middle ground, if there is one. "And because he shared my face, I remind you of him."

A thought crosses Jim's mind and he has to suck in a breath lest he swear at himself. Loki knows the truth and Loki is Thor's brother. There is no real reason aside from Jim's own discomfort at mentioning it that should stop him form being entirely honest with Thor. The longer he drags this out the more they will have to tiptoe around each other and if there's one thing that grates on Jim's every last nerve it's to have someone walk on eggshells around him.

(Even if the reason they're doing it is his fault.)

"My father. You do. Thankfully, you don't talk like him. I think I'd have gone crazy already if you did. Unless they drastically edited the holos available of him, but that would be one hell of a conspiracy." Because again, Jim never got to meet him. He doesn't know what his father sounds like save for those recordings.

The admission is so quick, there's a beat before it even sinks in, and Thor blinks in surprise. "Your fa-" His expression takes on a vaguely panicked air as he quickly runs through his memories in search of anything that might've resulted in a child with a human. You know. Just in case. Nothing in the necessary timeframe, thank all the fates, and he can't catch so much as a wisp of seidr from the captain.

Not that he'd thought there would be, but in this place, it pays to double-check. For all he knows, it could have been a case of a son he simply hadn't had yet.

Whoever Kirk's father was, though, he clearly wasn't a son of Odin. That's... mostly reassuring. For multiple reasons, a possible impending heroic death sitting right at the top of the list. "That's a hell of a coincidence," he says, once he's had a moment or two to work through his own thoughts. "You have my sympathies," he adds, and means it. He knows all too recently how it feels to lose a father, if not quite under the same circumstances.

It's a legitimate concern in a place like this and wouldn't even be the weirdest coincidence Jim's come across in his time here. Thankfully a worry Jim does not have to share. It wasn't on his mind but it would be and it would never leave. He's got enough baggage about who and what he is.

"George Kirk was my father. Your brother's seen a photo of him, but trust me. It's uncanny." Jim shrugs again and this time when he sucks in a breath it comes a little bit easier. Minutely, but he'll take what he can get. "I'm trying to get over it. Seems pretty shit for me to hold opinions over you based on something that's not your fault."

Edited (wrong icon) 2018-12-01 15:11 (UTC)

For a man who's having to apparently deal with a god wearing his dead father's face, Kirk has a remarkably level head about all this. Thor's impressed despite himself. He's not sure he'd be handling it half as well if he came across an Odin who was not Odin, himself. "Well," he says after a moment, "of all the people who've ever complained about my face, yours is the most legitimate grievance I've ever heard."

Not that it's a long list, mind you. But it seems a tiny morsel of levity would not go amiss to ease away the awkwardness. Now that he's looking for it, he can almost see a whisper of family resemblance in the human's face, enough that it's not at all hard to believe he's telling the truth.

He didn't handle it very well at first, and there was a very long few nights spent in the privacy of his own home coping with it until he figured out whether or not he could deal. And then Felix had to go and make friends with Loki which so far as Jim is concerned mandated that he get along at least decently with Loki's brother. So, here they are.

"I just figured you should know it's not personal if I'm occasionally making an odd face at you, especially when you first show up anywhere." He rubs at the back of his neck with a slow shrug. He's making an effort here, and Thor does seem rather personable aside from all the weirdness.

"I suspect we'll be seeing each other at least fairly often, considering how close Loki is becoming with my fiance and some of my friends."

"Fair enough." The mind and heart don't always agree, and Kirk can no more ignore the resemblance than Thor can change his face. It might be awkward, but better that than trying to avoid each other completely. No doubt the captain will get used to it, with enough exposure.

When he hears about why, however, Thor is torn between a measure of sympathy for those he's befriending, yet something resembling pride that Loki's making new friends at all. "Yes, he has a talent for that sort of thing."

Though it occurs to him that as long as they're getting things out in the open, there's something he should mention too. Just a small detail, but an important one. "You should probably also know that the Loki you've met is not from the same universe I call home. Either of him," he adds, because there are at least two, at this very party even. "Very similar, though. Almost identical. If not for his experiences here, which my Loki doesn't share, I might not've known."

"He's not?"

Well that's not exactly impossible given the Nex-wait, neither of them are? So then there's probably a third Loki running around somewhere and--oh boy, smoke is starting to pour out of Jim's ears while he tries to keep up with this exceptionally odd family being explained to him right now.

"That's got to be a hell of a thing. Have you told yours about...all of this?"

Once, Thor probably would have been distressed about having to keep track of multiple Lokis, paranoid of way too many knives and way too many grudges that might end up biting him in the back at any given moment. Whether they've all grown past that point or maybe Thor's just given himself over to the weirdness that is his life, is anyone's guess. Either way, the end result is the same, in that he's probably not nearly as worried about this as he should be.

"Of course I have." He tries not to make it sound too much like he thinks that's a silly question. "Without access to the Bifrost, it'd be hard to explain my absence from the ship otherwise. He laughed heartily when I told him I'd met two more of him." Norns forbid all three of them ever join forces together. One trickster alone is plenty, and when all three are Loki, well, Thor pities whatever target they choose to harass.

"How can you keep track of all of that? I've only met the one so far and he's made me look like an idiot pretty easily every time we've spoken."

Not in like a bad way or anything. Jim rather likes Loki based solely on their brief interactions. He's a consummate little brother in everything he does. Jim honestly can't help but to find that pretty endearing considering who he's chosen to keep company with over the last few years.

"My counterpart had to grow a beard just to get people to stop mistaking him for me. The Nexus makes things complicated in ways I never thought I'd have to deal with."

The thought of Loki with a beard is startling enough to draw a short laugh out of Thor. Honestly, he might be able to pull it off, but the trickster has always favored a clean, youthful face. Perhaps it's easier to misdirect strangers when he looks younger, more innocent. Or maybe he simply doesn't like it, but Loki has almost always had deeper reasons for what he does, Thor knows that now. "Your twin isn't the only one. A friend of mine, Steven Rogers, I've met two of him and can tell them apart the same way."

Honestly, it's a good look for him. Thor can appreciate a good manly beard.

Thoughts of how to tell the more identical Lokis apart, however... Thor's smile dims a little. "There's something about him," he says at last. "Not physical, not obvious. Something in the way he looks at me, sometimes, like he knows something my Loki doesn't." And after the small scraps of intel the trickster saw fit to pass along, just hints of a deeper knowledge, Thor has a pretty good guess what is on his brother's alternate's mind.

But that's something he shouldn't trouble the captain with, he thinks, so he shrugs and adds, "And my Loki hasn't made a habit of visiting here, not yet. Norns forbid if he takes it up, I might never know which Loki I'm speaking to."

Loki was feeling pretty good already. His twin had found a few bottles of something that had him losing a bit of feeling in his face, so he wasn't too smashed just yet, but he was happily buzzed. So when he spied the stranger with the bottles, he brightens, perking up from where he was settled at a table, with an array of glasses already scattered.

"Hello! I see you brought fresh supplies!"

Be on your best behavior tonight, Jim. These are gods we're out to meet after all.

Felix's instructions are still fresh in mind, and since the captain's still sober having only just arrived he offers the becrowned god a shallow bow by way of greeting and an easy smile. He looks enough like the other Loki Jim's met before that he's pretty sure this is the other host. Already well into his cups by the look of things.

"Of course. Andorian ale's always a hit with Earth folks. Care for a glass?"

Oh Felix. It's mischief gods, so a little irreverence won't hurt anything. Jim earns a wave for his bow the trickster god beaming at the stranger.

"I would love a glass. Come sit! You can try this here, in the blue bottle. I'm not sure what it is but it's like drinking pop rocks!"

The look on his face when he realizes the hosts were Loki and Loki and not Loki and Thor like he assumed will be brilliant and Jim hopes he's there to see it. As it is, the starship captain pours a small glass of the ale before handing it over to Loki before he takes a seat across from the god.

He eyes the blue bottle warily but picks up an empty glass to pour a very small sample to taste himself.

"I'm allergic to every third thing I try." He offers by way of an apology. "It does smell very good though."

Loki hopes so too, reactions are always fun to watch! Needless to say, he lifts his glass in a cheerful toast once they've both got their drinks, lips curved on a cheerful grin.

"Well here's hoping this isn't lucky number three for you."

"With my luck...? Could go either way."

Things are either very very good or very very bad for the captain, seems like. But whatever a 'pop rock' is, the drink Jim has in hand is fizzy and sweet to the point where he makes a bit of a face after he takes the sip.

"Is there alcohol in this or just sugar?"

Under the circumstances, Jim hasn't been abandoned as much as he might assume. Look, Felix knows he's a smart man but Jim seems to end up in trouble with powerful entities more often than not. So he reappears at about this point, having acquired drinks for them both only to find Jim's already being plied with... something.

"And here I was about to recruit you as my test subject, Ji- oh!" He's just spotted who the captain's with. And now, despite the smile he gives Loki, his eyebrows are drawn together in the faint frown of a man who's pretty certain he's just been posed a trick question. "I beg your pardon, have we met?"

"That's the dangerous part- it's horrifically alcoholic under all that sugar!" Loki replies in a cheery tone, clearly pleased when it seems that so far so good, his new friend isn't having a bad reaction. Whatever he was going to say beyond that was forgotten when someone new approached, and the trickster turned his smile Felix's way.

He knew Loki's drinking buddy that much was clear. And probably Loki's counterpart if that confusion was any hint.

"We haven't! You likely have come across my darling counterpart though." Loki replied, gesturing with his drink towards where his twin was mingling with some of the other partygoers.

Jim snickers into his glass and tries (badly) to hide it. When it comes to social forays into the Nexus Felix is almost always much more lax about who he's meeting and how mind breaking said interactions are for him. It's always Jim who's left floundering.

Not this time.

His smile for both Loki and Felix is equal parts cheeky and charming at the same time but he knows well enough to offer his own drink toward Felix and to accept the one the mage had procured for him.

"Try the ale. What's this you've brought me?" It smells good whatever it is. "And meet Loki. A Loki at least. Not the man we've met before but this kinda thing does seem to happen around here."

Edited 2018-11-18 18:02 (UTC)

Felix doesn't resist Jim taking the drink, though he has to remind himself to actually close his grip on the one being handed to him in turn. He's looking across at the other Loki and doing some hasty recalculations. Being around Jim has given him a crash course in the whole alternates business, but that's not to say he's ever been comfortable with it.

"Ah- I'm not sure, Jim, that's why I wanted to ask you. It smells like Stros M'Kai rum, but the label was in Earth text."

He makes sure to bow politely to Loki, as much as he can without spilling the drink. "A pleasure, then. Felix Caelus, battlemage in the Imperial Legion. Are... you... from the same universe as the Thor who visits here?" He's picking his words, trying to make sense of the situation.

Loki will be delighted to see Felix. He's also quite pleased to see Kirk, though, and comes over with a friendly grin. Honestly, anyone who can take his shenanigans with aplomb counts as a worthwhile acquaintance, in his book.

"Evening!" He's already had a little to drink and there's a flush on his cheeks that isn't normal for him. "What is this you've brought us? Did you miss out on the milkshakes earlier? I wonder if I should have had other food available..."

He didn't actually plan this party. It was all spur of the moment, so the chaos is inevitable, but it's working out well so far.

Well there's the God of Mischief Jim at least has met before. His hands are full with the Andorian ale he's brought along with him but he nods by way of greeting even as he grabs a thin glass to pour Loki out a bit of the very blue drink.

"Andorian ale. Always a party pleaser." And strong enough that a little goes a long way for mortals. But if a single sip doesn't get Jim plastered it probably won't do much for Loki. Still the captain offers out the glass he's poured. "Here."

Though he shakes his head at the earlier question. "I'm not much for sweets, usually."

"How pretty!" He's interested in this drink based purely on the aesthetic qualities. It doesn't really matter if it's strong. The faery wine has thus far been the only thing that's really hit him, although there may be something about mortal liquors as a chaser that's making it more effective.

"There's something wrong with you, then," he says, sipping from the glass and looking thoughtful. "Mmn. I like it. It's strong, but there's some depth to the flavor."

"But I still can't imagine not enjoying sweets."

"Well you're not wrong. Sweet often means fruity and I'm allergic to a lot of those. Suppose I just got used to not trusting anything that leaned that way."

There's still a friendly smile on Jim's face though, not so secretly pleased that he's brought something that meets with a god's approval. He's content to pour himself a drink and settle in to do some people watching around any conversation with Loki.

"I mean, I don't actively dislike them. My fiance has a bit of a sweet tooth though, so there's more of it in my place than usual."

"I'm sorry, then, that you have such an overzealous and indiscriminate immune system," he tells him. "What about honey? Can you enjoy that, at least?"

Even a god has preferences, and honey is one of Loki's. Some day, someone will compare him to Winnie-the-Pooh, and he'll get very annoyed. In the meantime, though, he'll enjoy his sweets and his mead.

"Good. If you're betrothed, you should be catering to your beloved, particularly since they clearly have better taste than you." Not that Loki has any solid reason to care what Jim's home life is like, but now his curiosity has been stirred. "Who is this fiance? I don't believe you mentioned her--or him?--before."

"Might be a pain, but it means I'm always bringing something to any gathering I'm at. Makes folks think I'm generous."

Not that Jim isn't--what he'd give for someone who needed help is more than he should in most cases. But it makes for a good joke, good enough to wink alongside it and nod toward the bottles of ale he's brought with him.

"Oh, sure. That's the chief sweetener on Nirn too. The world my fiance is from is very different from my own. I think I'd be screwed if I was allergic to that." The sweet cakes cousin Marcella made for his visit spring to mind and Jim can't help but to smile fondly. He's never been good at hiding his feelings for other people, even when he thinks he is.

"Actually, he's the reason I'm here at all. Felix Caelus told me you were putting on an affair. I wasn't sure if the connection had come up before so I thought it best to stay quiet about it."

"I like that type of thinking!" Loki gives him a brief, dazzling smile.

A cross-world betrothal is probably nothing unusual in the Nexus, but it gets Loki to thinking right away. This place provides such extraordinary opportunity, for mortals and gods and others. He is not, himself, in the market for a marriage at the moment, but perhaps he isn't using the Nexus to its full capacity yet, for his own goals and benefits.

He's been treading lightly. He's still afraid.

That thought retreats to the back of his mind when Felix Caelus is mentioned, though, and his smile returns. "Oh, him! Yes, I like him. Congratulations on securing what will most certainly be an interesting life partner."

"He's an easy man to like." It's practically his profession. Jim knows Felix would be swelling with pride if he knew a God was praising him thusly. Maybe Jim will tell him later. If he's sober enough to remember later that is.

"I know he found your conversation exceedingly interesting. He's been holed up in our apartment making notes for days now." But then, when your specialty is conjuration, meeting new gods and learning their whims must be like Saturnalia coming early. And to meet one in person! One that likes to talk?

"He wouldn't tell me what about, but I suspect that's probably for the best."

"I found him so, yes," Loki smirks. Likable and potentially trustworthy, no less. That's high praise coming from Loki.

He gives a little snort of a laugh at hearing about Felix's note-taking though. "That can't possibly bode well for me, but I think I'm flattered. If he publishes a book, I insist on co-author credit."

Okay, so he doesn't just think he's flattered. He knows he is, especially if Felix's notes have anything to do with their last topic of discussion. He might be trying to help, as well as just curious for his own reasons.

Loki decides once the hangover fades, he might have to try to pay the man a visit.

"Couldn't it? He's like a school girl with a new crush--academically at least. It's adorable really. I think you might have made his entire time in the Nexus worthwhile just by existing."

Something that might bother Jim more if he didn't also find Loki and his brother to be more friendly than as not. It's a chance for Felix to do what he's good at, and possibly make a friend in the process.

"I can't imagine he'd even think of letting anyone else see any book he writes, but I'll suggest it. Your suggestion might even make him blush."

Loki can't help but laugh at that, and it comes out neither wry nor mocking nor self-deprecating, just a simple noise of delight. "Oh, Norns. That kind of talk is going to make me blush, as well."

He shakes his head, not quite prepared to take Jim's commentary as unembellished truth, but pleased by it anyway. "I am...continually pleasantly surprised by this place. People have recognized my reputation and spoken with me anyway, people have taken my word that I am a god and treated me with respect accordingly, and those that have done neither of those things are content to treat me as an equal, even a friend, nonetheless."

"Surely a god isn't unused to a bit of mortal admiration?" Hell Jim's had to get used to it and he's nowhere near anything so important. Anytime he's back in San Fracisco it feels like there's always a gaggle of cadets who want to shake his hand or talk to him. Maybe Loki's reaction isn't too far off, actually. Jim always feels really uncomfortable when that happens. He's really not anything special.

"Well, this is a place where sentient dinosaurs, machine based life forms, and people from every stretch of time and as many worlds all come together. A god isn't so out of place here."

It took approximately a dozen text messages of increasing annoyance to finally prompt Thor to seek out the senders, just for the sake of making it stop. How Loki even got access to Thor's PINpoint to alter the ringtone, he has no idea, but if he hears Party Rock Anthem one more time he's liable to smite something. No song should ever be this catchy.

Oh good, they're both here, too. This can only go well.

Thor is going to need a good deal more alcohol in him if he's going to be attending a party hosted by not one, but two tricksters. Besides, maybe if he drinks enough, he can forget how the song goes before he ends up humming it for the next week. (Too late.)

Good thing, too. Loki was a bit concerned his twin was going to start sending quotes from the script of the Bee Movie to Thor, and thought that might be a bit too harsh.

He brightens when the Thunderer appears, making a beeline (ha!) for him, with a dark green bottle containing Norns know what. "Here!" He shoves it into Thor's hand. "This is perfect. I have no idea what's in it. You'll love it."

Yeah, he's already sampled some. It shows.

Thor should probably be more suspicious of Loki handing him mysterious bottles of liquid, honestly, but he's distracted at how deep in his cups Loki already appears to be. For one thing, he's smiling, and not in anticipatory glee either.

He pops the cork and sniffs at the liquor before casting a mildly amused look at Loki. "Norns, brother, how much of a head start did you have?"

He should be very suspicious! In this instance, though, there is no poison, magical potion, or laxative included. Or, at least, if there is, Loki didn't put it there.

"It's probably from some version of Faerie," he says. "Wouldn't work nearly so well, otherwise."

Usually, it takes him a dedicated effort to get drunk, even on Asgard's spirits. "I have had only two full glasses," he says, holding a hand up to indicate the size of the beverages he's consumed. "Along with a sampling of more mundane liquors, most Midgardian and therefore not nearly strong enough. It does have a kick."

The look that Thor gives the bottle suggests he's reevaluating his first impression of this particular alcohol. More than just the weak spirits he's had here before, then; part of him wants to ask where Loki got it, though the trickster does love his trade secrets.

Well, whatever the case, the bottle is his now to do with as he pleases, and he takes an exploratory mouthful straight from the container. Loki's not wrong, this is heady stuff. "Only two glasses, you say," he says, his eye glinting with amusement as he tips up the bottle again.

Loki almost, almost warns him not to take the drink lightly, again. Thor's ability to out-eat and out-drink even other gods is legendary, but Loki has a talent for processing alcohol, himself. It has to do with the Jotun blood and immunity to poisons.

So part of him doesn't appreciate the implication that he's a lightweight. They both know he's not...but why should he put up a fuss? That's counterproductive.

"Only two," he confirms with a smirk. "I suppose you think you can do better?"

Oh god. Is this going to turn into a drinking contest?

On the contrary, Loki, Thor rather suspects you've had more than you're letting on. Whether it's this particular brew or one of those supposedly weaker Earth liquors, it doesn't particularly matter. But sure, he's up for the challenge. Even the king of Asgard is entitled to enjoy an evening's revels once in a while, and he's had very little cause to celebrate anything of late.

"Loki, if you still doubt how well I can hold my liquor at this point, I cannot help you," he replies with amusement in his eye. "But as this is a party, it'd be rude not to partake."

He's high on life. He's snorting the experience. Or something.

"You are quite right, my dear Brother," he says. "It would most definitely be rude not to share. If you're sober by the end of the evening, you've lost. That goes for everybody except Harley, since she can't get drunk. And maybe Peter; he's a bit young for it."

Loki attempts to lean against the nearby wall, misjudges the distance and crashes into it with a sound of mild surprise before righting himself. "You ought to try a little of everything there is to drink, though. I should have had someone bring mead, but there's some quite decent wine, some ale, and my little roommate's moonshine."

Yes, Loki is certainly high on something, and Thor can't stop a laugh at his brother's attempt to play off his moment of imbalance. "You know, they have this tradition on Earth called a pub crawl, where revelers trek from one tavern to the next to sample their wares. How thoughtful of you to gather all the drinks in one place and avoid the crawling altogether."

If there is to be a drinking contest, Loki has clearly already given himself a considerable starting handicap. When else is Thor going to have the opportunity to take advantage?

"Then by all means, let's make sure they're all drinks fit for gods."

"Brother, my intent tonight is to drink up to the point where a pub crawl would quite literally have to involve crawling. It's only sensible to bring everything together so that some indignity can be avoided. For me, at least."

His smile is beatific, strangely without its usual sharp edges.

"Drinks fit for the gods." He laughs softly. "You mean to sample everything for quality? I quite agree. Wait here, I'll bring you some of the Midgard wine before your tastebuds get pickled with the stronger stuff."

Thor chuckles and gives Loki a friendly - if light - punch to the shoulder, as if he's testing to see how easily his brother will topple over. Not expecting it to, though; Loki is clearly tipsy, but not entirely legless. Yet. "Are you sure you can manage that by yourself?" he teases. "Maybe I should give you a hand."

"Thor!" Loki's pleased shout came from a nearby table where the trickster looked like he was all but holding court, face flushed from the alcohol his twin had already gotten for him, gaze dancing with amusement.

"I was wondering when you'd get here!"

How can Thor be mad at Loki when he's looking so happy? With lots of practice, naturally, but in this instance it doesn't seem entirely warranted. After everything the young trickster's told him about his troubles back home, Thor's not going to tromp all over his good mood just because that Earth tune is firmly embedded in the pulse of his thoughts now.

"I could hardly ignore your summons, could I?" Thor answers, arching his brows at Loki.

Loki is pleased that Thor wasn't mad at him for his little trick, lurching to his feet, already somewhat unsteady as he came to press a bottle into the man's hands that matched the one that Loki had already killed half of at his seat.

"Come! We've gotten a head start so you have to catch up!"

"Do I?" It must be strong stuff indeed that Loki is this merry already, and Thor sniffs at the bottle's contents, hoping to identify it. Though really, the question must be asked, does it matter?

"Have I forgotten a holiday?" It's certainly possible, though Thor can't remember one that required quite this much karaoke.

"Indeed!" Now that Thor has his drink, Loki will be taking his arm to tug the thunder god towards the table.

"It's the grand anniversary of party rocking!" Would Thor buy it? Would he throw Loki out a window?

Let's find out!

That doesn't sound like any holiday Thor's ever heard of, but this is the Nexus, he's heard odder things have happened. Whether this is just an excuse or not, they could both use some levity in their lives, so Thor's not going to call him out on it.

"Well then, I suppose I have some catching up to do. What is this, anyway?" He takes a pull from the bottle, the alcohol unfamiliar on his tongue. Not bad, though.

Aw yes he got away with it!

"It's some concoction that my ever-thoughtful counterpart found. Pretty potent, I know that much." No not terrible tasting, but it was definitely strong. Either way Loki would be reclaiming his seat, tugging Thor after to sit with him.

"Of course he did." Thor allows Loki to pull him towards the table, keeping his grip on the bottle easily (so far...), and claims a seat for himself. If it's the same stuff that this Loki has been drinking, though, it must be benign enough, alcohol content aside.

It's been a long time since Thor has partied quite as hard as Loki seems to be doing. Not much reason to, lately. But maybe that's all the more reason to indulge now.

"Thor!" And here is Harley, looking bright and chipper as always. She was totally not responsible for any of those text messages (yeah right).

"How have you been? Still eating just candy?"

If alcohol is on the menu, it's always a plus to have drinking buddies. And here's one now! Thor's looking less grumpy already.

He shudders and makes a face at her question, though. Why would you even bring that up, Harley. "No, and Norns forbid I eat even a single other sweet this century. I was about to pour myself a drink; would you join me?"

Simply to make sure that if he needed more candy, she could get him some.

"Sure! Make it a big one!" She grins.

The candy was nice at first, but Thor has learned that there is indeed such a thing as way, way too much sugar. Never again.

He has little trouble doing as requested, bringing back an enormous stein of ale for each of them, handing one over to the Nexus' friendliest drinking partner. "I don't know what we're celebrating," he admits, after he drinks a third of his glass.

"You don't?" Harley looks surprised at that. She debates over a few drinks of her own glass.

"It is a going-away party."

"No, Loki only told me that I had to 'get my butt down here and drink.'" Thor's familiar with the general idea of such a thing, but who would be leaving? He puzzles over that while he drinks, each possibility more unlikely than the last.

"Getting to have some drinks is a pretty good reason to show up." Harley grins. She is not really sure if it is her place to tell Thor about who is leaving. Or why.

But they have drinks to worry about.

"That, and he inflicted a song on me that I may never get out of my head," Thor admits, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. Brothers, am I right? "He's the persistent type."

"Those songs are the worst. You just have to karaoke it out!" Harley grins.

"Norns, no. I would have to drink a great many more of these before I'd stand up and sing to a crowd," Thor says, thumping his stein against the table. Famous last words, Thor.

"More? Okay!" Harley will gladly give him more to drink. Every little bit helps!

They've even got Peter suckered into all of this, swinging his feet while he sips at a bright pink ice cream concoction and waves to the God of Thunder once he arrives.

"Hi Thor! Are you here for the milkshakes too?"

He most certainly is not; to say that Thor is an adventurous eater would be a massive understatement, but if he consumes anything sweet in the next decade it'll be too soon.

He is not, however, a party pooper. "Peter!" he greets the youth with his usual level of enthusiasm, welcoming the company of a fellow Avenger. Avenger-in-training? Apprentice Avenger? Whatever. "I didn't know there would be so many people here." Not an answer, but hopefully Peter won't notice. Deflection powers, activate.

Peter is unaware of any candy induced regrets Thor may or may not be having but the Lokis have supplied him with a strawberry shake and a plate of fresh cherries for some unbeknownst reason. Free food is food and thus Peter will eat it.

"Iiiiii didn't either actually. I came here to do some homework and sorta stumbled into a party. But I'm apparently not unwelcome so here we are." He's beaming from ear to ear, so happy to be around friends.

How could anyone say no to that youthful excitement anyway? Of course he's welcome here. Thor will fight anyone who says otherwise. (That is, he probably wouldn't actually fight them. Unless it was necessary. ...which it could be.)

Thor is rather tired of sweets, of course, so once he's gotten himself a drink, he grabs a bowl of mixed nuts and plonks himself down next to his young friend. "I don't know what we're celebrating either, but I'm not going to say no to the break."

The chair gives a bit of a creak at Thor's weight but he doesn't dump his dense gluts onto the floor which is a small mercy for the god's recently beaten down pride.

"The two Lokis are throwing a party for some reason. So far it's been a lot of fun. Though for some reason they keep asking me to try and tie cherry stems into knots with my tongue. It's weird. But cherries are really tasty so I guess I don't mind."

Thor has no idea what's the deal with cherry stems, but if both Lokis are insisting on their guests giving it a try, then it's probably not a good sign. Then again, they both seem determined to throw a party that's fun for all, instead of just for tricksters, so who knows? "I can't imagine it's an easy task." Is that the point, to just be difficult and unnecessary? Humans seem to enjoy those kinds of little tricks.

Still, Peter's got the right idea. Free food is free food. "One thing I've learned from countless diplomatic visits is, always take advantage of the buffet."

It's kind of like that time Mister Stark took him with to Germany and he was in that super fancy hotel room. Had his own room and everything!! It was seriously the nicest place he'd ever been in his life and well honestly probably the nicest place he ever would be in his life again.

They made a killer breakfast too. Good times.

"I mean, it's important to try new things right? Plus, it would be rude not to accept. They went through all the trouble of preparing one and all. You don't want it to go to waste."

"Exactly." Thor lifts his glass of mead in a Midgardian-style toast. "To raiding the buffet, and saving our hosts from the burden of excessive leftovers." He then taps the glass against Peter's milkshake, and takes a long drink.

After a moment's thought, he also positions the bowl of nuts in arm's reach of the youngster. He's a growing boy, after all.

Cricket has been informed that Thor is around, and he's read enough of Bullfinch's Mythology that he knows more or less who/what he is. When he sees a huge muscular blond walk in looking disgruntled, he makes assumptions quickly.

And...and this has to be done.

He comes up to him with a sealed mason jar in his hands and offers it out, deadpan except for a small smile. "Reckon you oughtta have this. It's my best white lightning."

Haha! Lightning.

Thor looks down at this human, and though he doesn't recognize him at all, he accepts the offering and raises it higher so he can look at it. "White lightning, you say?" The name has his attention, as Cricket no doubt hoped it would.

Oh, wait, what? They never had moonshine on Asgard? Cricket actually expected Thor to get the reference right away, but then he's used to Loki, who will pretend he gets a reference even when he doesn't.

"It's liquor, sir," he explains. "Distilled from corn and rye and oats and a little molasses. We called it that where I grew up, 'cause it's clear and real strong."

Nowhere near strong enough to affect a god, probably, but the amount Thor's holding would make a normal human very very sick.

If they had moonshine on Asgard, they certainly didn't call it something so elementally appealing, which is really a shame. And of course, during his time on Earth, Stark's liquor cabinet tended to be Thor's go-to for decent drinks, which for Stark apparently meant they all came with a high price tag.

But still! It's been a long time since anyone's just made a random gift to Thor, and he has to admit, this human's got his number. Powerful spirits, named after his favorite type of magic, and hand-delivered to him? It's kind of touching, really.

"Thank you." And then, because this seems the appropriate venue for it and because he wasn't raised by wolves, no matter what Loki must have hoped when they were children, he offers, "Would you like to share some with me?"

Cricket was halfway just being funny with the gift, but it was a more innocent kind of tease than Loki would come up with. And maybe there is a little something of unintentional tribute, there. Certainly he was careful to pick out the best-tasting White Lightning he's made so far.

In any case, he realizes he's done something right based on Thor's reaction. His ears turn pink at the thanks, and then he smiles wholeheartedly. "Sure would, sir! D'you drink it straight or with ice?"

Because he can get glasses and ice, if need be. He's used to just sipping out of the jar, though, which is also okay. "My name's Cricket by the way. Cricket Pate. I live with Harley."

And Loki, by extension.

Ice? In alcohol? No true Asgardian would be caught dead watering down his spirits, with the exception of that truly appalling novelty wine that made an appearance at Fandral's birthday feast about three hundred years ago. Positively undrinkable in its full strength. None of them had let Volstagg live down bringing it for about eighty years.

Besides, Thor can just imagine how appalled Stark would be. ("That's what whiskey stones are for," he'd said once, as if it were obvious.) But then, maybe his opinion on this particular matter isn't one that Thor should be taking into account anyway.

"Straight, always." Thor unscrews the cap from the jar and takes a whiff of its contents. Yep, that's alcohol, all right, pure and strong. "I'm Thor, son of Odin. Though I think you already knew that," he says, casting a sidelong look at Cricket, his own glint of amusement in his eye.

Pure, strong, and clear as air. Cricket distills this stuff twice, just to be sure it's as good as it can get. Aside from the natural bite, it doesn't have much in the way of bouquet, since it's fresh and un-aged, but when tasted there's a hint of vanilla and apple under the ferocious burn.

"Not sure why I even asked," Cricket tells him with a grin. "If I can drink it straight, guess there's no reason you wouldn't. Hope you like it a'ight."

He nods in response to the introduction. "Guessed that, yes sir. I live with Harley and Loki, so I knew you was around. Good to meet you finally, though."

Thor snags the nearest pair of unattended glasses and pours them both a generous measure. The strength of the burn lives up to the smell, positively ferocious by Midgardian standards, and Thor can kind of see where the 'white lightning' part of the name comes from. Searing and brilliant, with a fire that warms the belly and might put a tingle in a human's fingers. It's a good deal stronger than most drinks he's had on Earth, even those taken from Stark's wine cellar. "Respectable," he deems it, topping off his glass again. Getting seconds is a compliment to the chef, he's heard.

He does a small, slightly comical doubletake when Cricket mentions his housemates, though. "So you're the one," he says with a grin. "Loki mentioned he was sharing quarters with a brewer."

Cricket is just a human. He is a human with some notable physical deficits, and he's a little bit lanky, not a big guy. For all that, though, he has some wiry upper-body strength that doesn't show until he's using it, and he's been drinking regularly for years, so his tolerance is way higher than you'd think to look at him. He should probably keep an eye on his liquor intake, but when a god pours you a drink? He figures you better drink all of it.

He holds up his glass in a light toast and then because Thor emptied his own glass, he does the same. He doesn't wince or grimace, although he keeps his eyes closed for a moment after to make sure the sudden flush of heat doesn't make him woozy.

His grin up at Thor is sheepishly pleased, eyes bright and hazy from moonshine. "Yessir. He ain't complained about my work none, either, I'll give him that."

It's really Harley that's Cricket's booster and support, but since Loki took it upon himself to go get a little vengeance on Cricket's behalf, he's been friendlier. They'd be hard-pressed to say they're close friends, but they do have a pretty civil living situation now.

Someday, Thor is going to have to pay Harley's home a visit and find out just how many wayward men she's sheltering. She has quite the collection going already, it seems. Besides, he can't help but be curious about where Loki's been hanging his hat these days.

"If he was displeased, I'm sure you'd know by now." Well. Maybe not. But Thor would rather give his brother the benefit of the doubt on this one. Besides, Cricket's work is nothing to complain about, it's a good deal stronger than most of Earth's ideas of a decent drink. "So he's been telling stories about me, hmm?" All right, he probably can't hope that they've been flattering ones. Dare he ask?

Honestly, it seems to vary from day to day. She has a big heart, and she's a little reckless, and that makes for some wacky houseguests. Cricket couldn't be more grateful for this tendency of hers, although he occasionally side-eyes Loki and worries he's a time bomb waiting to go off and fill them all with shrapnel.

But he's not going to say that to Thor.

He snorts. "Yeah, I've noticed he don't mince words when he wants to say something."

Loki uses more words than are strictly necessary, actually, when he wants to make something known.

"Some," Cricket admits. "But I used to read a lot back home, too, so I knew some stuff already. The way he talks about you, you can tell you're brothers. Like, he's mad at you all the time but not seriously mad. I don't have no kin like that, but I've seen it before."

Did someone say liquor. Harley has supported Cricket with his moonshine business... and will totally support drinking his product.

She honestly is going to enjoy this... seeing who gets drunk first.

Bottoms up!

Cricket's is not the only alcohol available, but he's being pretty generous with it. He's picked up on something major going on here, and he's not sure what, and he's not going to ask, but he's definitely going to contribute.

He's a little flushed when he comes up to Harley, bringing her a mason jar that smells of apple and allspice.

"I'mma be pretty hung over tomorrow, Harley," he warns her cheerfully. "Don't know how it works for Loki."

"I am pretty sure he is going to get pretty hung over himself, Cricket. But he needs it. Both of them..." Harley wraps her arms around him.

This is not a 'hugging you because I am drunk' hug. This is a 'I am Harley Quinn and I hug people' hug.

"Good thing I know a lot of hung over cures!"

"They're so different," he observes, and for once he doesn't blush at being hugged. He hugs her back easily, in fact, because he's tipsy and he's finally comfortable around her.

"They're different and they're the same. Don't make no sense, but I guess part of what they are is about not makin' much sense."

He smiles up at her. "Hey. I'mma try to make chocolate eggnog for Christmas for you."

It's a non-sequitur, but this is how Cricket shows affection: by doing things for people.

"I have found that most duplicates are different."

"Chocolate eggnog! Double sweet! Thanks Cricket." She kisses his cheek.

"I, uh. Kinda like him." He confesses, the low almost-whisper of his tone a sure sign that he means a little bit more than 'he's fun at a party'. "The other one, I mean. Not yours. He kinda fills up a room, don't he?"

He's blushing already by the time she leans in to kiss his cheek, and breaks into a grin and a soft chuckle. "Harley, half the time you're a ball of fire and the other half you're a ball of sunshine. Don't know how you do it. And you're welcome."

"That's great Cricket!" Harley grins. She would not have been bothered if it was 'her' Loki, since really he is not really hers in the first place.

"You should tell him!" Because tonight of all nights, the other Loki should hear it. And have that moment of knowing someone likes him that way.

"Well ain't a sun mostly a ball of fire anyway?" She grins.

Cricket has a vague idea they're not committed or anything, but regardless, he is in no way attracted to the Loki that Harley is dating. He strikes him as too effete, too slick and insincere, while the other one comes off as younger, more on the side of reckless and impish.

In reality, they have more in common than he realizes, but hey, he's entitled to a few misconceptions.

"Tell him??" he almost squeaks. "Tell how?"

Look, it's hard enough with a girl. A human girl. And not a god.

"Just use the words... I like you." She reaches down to take his hand. "I know it is scary. And seems impossible..."

"But treat it like... you might never see him again."

"I mean … you already know what it is like to not have that chance with one person. Since you can't go back to your world. Treat tonight like that last moment you have with Loki."

Cricket holds onto Harley's hand kind of tight. Reminding him of Jack goes right to his heart and it's a good way of making him think hard about things. It's a different situation, though. (He doesn't know how different, but still.)

"Well. I reckon there was no point to sayin' anything to Jackie, though. He was pretty far gone for Bertha Minnix, and I think he won her over." And she was a nice girl. Smart enough to poke holes in Jack's ego when he needed it. Cricket sort of approved, as much as he could.

"What's a god want with a crippled, dead, bootlegger?" He smiles weakly. "But I guess it can't hurt none to say something. Not while we're all this drunk, anyway."

"He won't see you as any of that Cricket..." Harley tells him softly.

"Don't think like that... Let him tell you how he sees you. You might be surprised."

"What makes you so sure?" He gives her a quizzical look. The thing is, he doesn't mean that as an insult to Loki or to anyone who might actually see him as lesser. He's been looked down on all his life. It just seems normal to him now, and not necessarily something he takes personally.

But Harley doesn't think like other people, so he really wants to know her opinion.

"Well they might be different... but a Loki is a Loki in a way. And just like the one who is sort-a dating me right now accepts me for who I am... the one you like will accept you for who you are."

Harley beams. "He just needs someone in his life who accepts him too!"

Cricket's blushing again, but he nods, accepting her rationale, even if he'll probably have to see it demonstrated to really internalize it. At least he believes, from what he's seen of Harley's Loki (which is how he's going to think of him no matter what either of them says), that he truly accepts and cares about her.

Cricket still doesn't trust the man, but that's okay. He doesn't have to, to be on civil terms with him.

The other Loki, though... "He's a little flashy, and a charmer," he says with a small smile. "And he's got trouble written all over him, and that's a lot like Jack. But Jack didn't have sad hiding under all that. Loki does, and I...wanna help."

"Does that sound stupid? Never mind, I'm kinda drunk anyway, don't matter if it's stupid."

No one's going to hold anything he says while he's drunk against him, after all.

Very few people accept Harley's rationale... for good reason. But it is nice to have someone like Cricket who has faith in her.

"I am sure you could help him, Cricket." Harley grins. "I think it is sweet... that you want to help him be less sad."

Cricket is very loyal once you win him over. And it...actually doesn't take a whole lot to win him over. If Hermione ever meets him, she'll probably know he's a Hufflepuff at heart even without the Sorting Hat around to confirm that.

"Hope he thinks so, too," he tells her with a tipsy little laugh, and gives her a hug.

Far be it from Azwel to be the sober one at a party... that he kind of crashed. Still, this is clearly just what he needed.

Good job he's one of those happy drunks, laughing at everything. You see, he loves everyone. No, I mean, he loves everyone even when sober. It's just now, he's much more apt to say so.

This guy is great! Loki is feeding off the cheery energy of his strange drinking companion, a beaming smile on his own face.

"Hey, can you still feel your face?" If the answer is yes, guess who's sliding Azwel another drink?

Oh, there is a lot of energy to be had from this fellow, let me tell you,

At some point, he'd removed the gauntlets and hung them from his belt, which is a good thing, as he'd probably put his own eye out if he'd been wearing them right now as he pats his own face a couple times.

"Yes. Yes, I can."

Another drink? He won't say no! "Ah, and here's the solution!"

Probably a good idea. Loki himself has removed his horns too, after almost putting someone's eye out in a hug. And he can't resist but reach out to pat his friend's face, with a thoughtful look.

"Definitely need more drinks I can still feel your face too!"

At least he has a nice, soft, well-kept beard. Really, he was blessed with Good Hair Genes, as there wasn't exactly such thing as beard balms and hair goop where he's from.

He doesn't mind this in the slightest. In fact, he nods with the kind of mock solemnity one can only see in a drunk person.

"Indeed. It's entirely far too... there. More drink is required!"

Loki can't help but gasp when he discovers this Very Important fact.

"Your beard is incredible! What magic is this?"

What were they doing? Because the trickster is entirely caught up in petting the man's beard at the moment. It's entirely possible that this might be morphing to a beard-braiding session but it's up in the air.

They're both approaching that level of plastered, aren't they?

"I'd never thought to try using magick to groom it," Azwel chortles. "Thank you, though. I grew it myself!"

Oh, boy. We're getting into nonsense answers, now.

His beard is already braided, but there's nothing stopping anyone undoing it and braiding it up again differently. As long as drinking is not impeded. Because there's new things to try, like something called 'Scumble...'

Happy drunks are okay, so long as they stay in their corner of the bar, which is clearly something Azwel isn't doing. As such, Marie is trying desperately to avoid eye contact with him while taking a sip of her alcoholic drink. She's not completely inebriated yet, mainly because it is stupidly fun to watch other people get drunk.

The question is, does he want to approach this sulky, mysterious woman?

Oh, no, he definitely doesn't stay in any kind of corner. Ordinarily he wouldn't notice Marie, but when someone is desperately trying to avoid eye contact, it's hard not to.

Eventually he makes his way over to where she's sitting, weaving only a little. He is very bold, indeed, pulling up a chair and sitting on it, regarding her with what he can only hope is a friendly smile, though he can't entirely be sure, now.

"I noticed," he said, "that you're trying very hard... not to look at me." He tilts his head. "Is something wrong?"

Well, seeing the drunk man take up next to her makes this encounter unavoidable, as she turns to face him politely. Or as well as she can. At least he seems nice enough and alcohol certainly helps...

"I'm trying not to look any anyone. I wasn't really invited to this party knowing anyone, so I'm just the wallflower." She takes a sip of her drink, managing a smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to seem rude."

"Hah!" is Azwel's amused reply. "I wasn't invited, either!"

He's strange looking, but so... oddly personable. Like an over-the-top villain who steps out of his volcano lair on his days off to unwind and party. Ming the Merciless off-duty.

"If they let me in and welcomed me... then I'm certain you're just as welcome, if not more so," he points out, his words only slightly slurred.

"Well, glad to know I'm not the only one sneaking into these kind of events. Any excuse to have a drink is fine by me."

He does strike her as the overly happy villain, with his hair style and clothes. But as long as Azwel isn't trying to harm her, then whatever. He isn't going away anytime soon, so Marie gestures to the chair next to her.

"I didn't mean to offend you earlier. Socializing with new people has never been my strong suit." She extends one hand to him. "Marie. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Exactly!"

No, he definitely isn't going away any time soon. And, really, even a villain knows not to attack people at a party.

"Not to worry, it takes rather a lot to offend me," he answers. He shakes her hand and it's a good job he's taken those gauntlets off by now, as gloves are a little more comfortable for this sort of thing, aren't they?

"Call me Azwel. I'm told drinking helps make socialising a little easier. Thus, clearly, the answer is to drink more." You know. Drunk logic.

Unless the villain wants control of the party! So far, it doesn't seem like anyone here has an interest in that, so here's to more celebrating. His attire is simply fascinating, but it would be rude to ask about it. "Nice to meet you, Azwel. Can I buy you a drink?"

She hardly doubts he'll say no, already flagging someone down to get another drink for herself. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. Have you been in the Nexus long?"

"It'd be rude to refuse such an offer! Thank you!" Well, then. He'll have some more of that moonshine.

Oh, dear, she asked him to talk about himself. The good thing is, in this state he's easily distracted, so maybe she'll come out the other end of this with her ears still attached.

"I have not. I only just arrived in this Nexus through an astral rift--in hindsight something that one should expect when chasing after said phenomenon. I've been hunting them for a while, now, you see, as their energies are instrumental for my research into the Evil Seed and its effects on human beings..."

Oh, dear....

Edited 2018-11-18 10:28 (UTC)

She's not a big man of moonshine, too strong for her tastes, but something like wine or a fruity alcoholic drink is something she won't pass up. After acquiring another glass of wine, she keeps her eyes on Azwel, listening to his explanation carefully. On a non-drunk day, she'd probably make more sense of it, but tonight, she's nodding along in agreement, only getting bits and pieces of it.

"Portal research. Not a story I usually hear people telling." Evil seed? Whatever. That isn't important. "Are you from Earth or a different realm?"

"I am, indeed!" He leans closer with the kind of exaggerated gravitas of the truly plastered. "And I found out... there are many, many Earths! This is a new idea for me, but it is fascinating!"

Kinner's a fan of Cricket's moonshine, so he finds a jar and digs in. He'll probably regret this in the morning, but he already ate as a precaution. Kinner knows it's harder to get drunk on a full stomach, so here's to the best.

He pours out a cup of moonshine. Bottoms up.

"Someone told me I should make bacon and jalapeno flavored," Cricket tells Kinner doubtfully, cracking open a jar of clear apple for himself.

"I reckon that'd just about kill people. What d'you think?"

"Bacon and jalapeno." Kinner raised an eyebrow before taking a gulp of moonshine. That sounded...interesting, but probably a bad idea. "Whose idea was this?"

He has some guesses floating around in his head, mostly one of the Lokis or Alastor.

One of the Lokis is a good guess, indeed! In point of fact, Cricket saw bacon 'shine in a recipe book and was musing aloud about who the hell would think it was a good idea. Loki-the-elder decided to be whimsical. He also suggested broccoli and cheddar. Which is definitely not happening.

"Well, I found just bacon in a book in the library. Bacon and maple? But Loki was saying sriracha was popular and it's spicy and I should try jalapenos."

"If I do, he's gonna be the first to taste it, for sure." Cricket and Loki have a real interesting rivalry going, here.

"Well, better him than me. If he's, uh, all right, I'll think 'bout tryin some." Kinner's not opposed to trying new drinks, but he's willing to let Loki (whichever one) take it first. "I ain't a scientist, but my scientist coworkers ain't here, so I guess it'll have to be me."

Hey, Kinner's curious, and not above attempting new things with his recipes. He has all the time in the world now.

"Bacon and maple, huh?" In response to Cricker's comments, Kinner's thoughtful for a moment. "If you ever need ingredients for new types of shine, feel free to ask and I'll see what I can fix you up with."

Cricket laughs a little, nodding. "I always ask Loki or Harley to test for me, 'cause they're immune to it. So if it's too strong, they can warn me and they'll be a'ight."

"I've had bacon cured with maple and then sugared before cookin' it. It was pretty good. So I can see how it might be okay in a drink, too." He smiles and shrugs again.

"I'll take you up on that, though, if you don't mind. I'm not always sure what flavors to try, but the best way to figure it out is probably just experimenting."

"That ain't a bad idea," Kinner says. "Sugared bacon and maple. I might ask if I could try that sometime, or have some to use in a recipe."

He enjoys experimenting himself, and the Nexus gave him a variety of new ingredients to work with. It's paradise for someone in his line of work.

"Bacon ain't bad. Though..." The cook smirked, a sly look on his face. "Recent, uh, events left me with a bit of a taste for beef."

Edited 2018-11-21 08:11 (UTC)

"I ain't making beef-flavored moonshine," Cricket laughs. He doesn't actually mean it. If he thought he could pull it off and there was a market, he would absolutely make beef moonshine.

He's curious, though. "Do I wanna know why you got a thing for beef?"

Kinner smiles. He’ll explain to Cricket, since the young man’s been decent and won’t tease him about it.

“When I was killed, I was milking a cow, one of my jobs on the team. The Thing was takin’ the form of the cow and decided to use the chance to have me for dinner, I guess. So I like evening the score a little bit.”

Cricket blinks, and his eyes get big, and he cups a hand over his mouth like he's not sure whether he's allowed to laugh or not. It's a perfect storm of weird and gross and funny all wrapped up in gallows humor and he can't deny he's tickled by it.

"...Well, Kinner," he says at last, voice cracking with laughter, "reckon I'll take you to Lord of the Fries to celebrate that one of these days, then. Get you a burger and a big ol' milkshake."

Shit. If only there was some way Cricket could do the same kind of thing, to sort of laugh in the face of his own death.

“Well, we can’t have cows eating people. That’s against the natural order of things. They might start gettin’ ideas.” A joke, of course.

Kinner doesn’t mind if Cricket laughs. He knows and likes the kid, and Cricket’s light years nicer than Alastor. Even with Alastor he doesn’t mind his laughing about the cow thing. It’s more the nickname that annoys him.

The skinny cook gives Cricket a knowing smile. “Don’t mind if I take you up on that offer. I ain’t a fan of cows, myself, but my stomach loves ‘em. What kinda place is Lord of the Fries, anyway? Meat place, I’m guessin’.”

Okay, so.

Caspar is not looking to get intoxicated, or be at this party any longer than necessary. But, it has been a while since he's had a decent glass of alcohol. The stuff that gets passed off as liquor on Atlantis is barely tolerable. Especially Seth's apple brandy.

He'll just take a gander at the selection while he waits for Adia to be done with whatever conversation he already excused himself from. Maybe he'll find something he recognizes.

"Hey." Cricket brings him a jar labeled 'apple pie' in red sharpie, with a date and number scribbled on the bottom of the label.

"Didn't actually talk much before, and I have your old clothes. I'm Cricket." He offers out the jar with a grin.

Caspar blinks, silent while he processes Cricket's friendly demeanor. What did he do to earn such a greeting? Maybe it's the free clothes, because it certainly wasn't his attitude back on Halloween night. "Thanks," he says finally, accepting the jar with a measured nod. "I'm Caspar. Adia's boyfriend. She told me about you, but I didn't know what you looked like."

It's his way of apologizing for not recognizing Cricket when they met. Or just stating the facts.

He opens the jar and takes a whiff of its contents. Apple moonshine? Well, it's not his first choice, but it doesn't smell like it'll melt paint, so he's willing to try it. He lets the first sip sit on his tongue a moment before swallowing, as if this were a professional wine tasting and not a social event.

"It's good," he tells Cricket. He's being terse, but honest. The flavor is rustic, but only in the best of ways, and burns pleasantly on the way down. And it's leagues better than Seth's brandy. "You make this yourself?" he asks, his shoulders relaxing. Another question comes to him. "How'd you know so many answers to Caleno's questions?"

Now that the urgency of aiding Hunter has passed, he's curious.

It's neither, honestly. It's just how Cricket approaches people. In point of fact, he's not sure whether he likes Caspar yet or not, but he assumes if Adia likes him--and she's so kind--he must be all right. And after all, Halloween was pretty intense for everyone.

"Yeah, same here. I mean, she told me your name and a little about you, but not what you look like. She's awfully kind. You're a lucky man, sir." There is something utterly innocent about this compliment. It's an old-fashioned commentary, with nothing in the way of jealousy or rivalry coloring it.

He seems pleased by his reaction to the moonshine. That it's designated 'apple pie' means there's been some cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg added to the jar, and a little simple syrup to cut it, so it's slightly sweeter than it would be fresh out of the still with no additives.

"Sure do," he nods. "I got three stills. Makin' apple and just plain sweet-feed liquor right now."

He blushes faintly at the question. It's hard to tell what Caspar means by it. "Well, sir, I had rickets as a baby pretty bad, and growin' up I couldn't get around so well. That's why I have the braces still?" He gestures at his legs.

"But I sat around and read a lot for fun, specially when the weather was bad. I read Bullfinch's Mythology, and a translation of the Iliad and the Odyssey, and a couple other things. Mostly from the library or the school. I didn't own no books outside the Bible and a few pulps."

Caspar was definitely not at his most social during Halloween. He's not terribly social ever, but at least he's not in ripping-fenders-off-cars mode. In fact, when Cricket compliments Adia, his expression visibly softens, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I am. I don't deserve her, but I try my best."

He takes another sip of moonshine. The sweetness isn't cloying at all. He'll have to be careful or this will all go down far too easily. "Wish we had you on Atlantis. Nobody there knows what they're doing. If they brew anything decent, it's by accident."

Harsh, man. Oh, well. He means it as a compliment to Cricket!

As for the braces, he barely pays them any mind. He's more interested in the rest of the explanation. "That's religion where I'm from. Not that anyone but the most literal believed in all the stories. Did you have a favorite?"

Well, okay. By Cricket's standards, that an entirely appropriate response to being told your girlfriend is great. He smiles his approval and nods.

Blushing brightly, he grins at the compliment. "Adia let me come see the beach for a little. It's real pretty there. I'd come help any time, sir, only I understand no one knows about the Nexus so I'd be hard to explain."

"It used to be religion, where I came from. I guess maybe some people still believe in it, but not so much where I lived. They were old stories to us. Special stories, but not religion." He looks thoughtful.

"There are other stories like 'em. Word of mouth, kinda. I ain't seen them in books, anyway, just heard from my Granny. But...yeah. I liked the books, too."

He looks at the floor, utterly sheepish and awkward. "Cupid and Psyche. That was my favorite. Not real sure why, except after the story, the book talked about how Psyche was the Greek word for souls and butterflies, too, and the idea of that...I don't know. It's a pretty idea. I liked it."

"I know." He wasn't thrilled about it, either. He's as concerned, if not more so, in keeping the Nexus a secret and not raising any questions from his neighbors. But knowing Cricket a little better now, he's comfortable with having him as a visitor. He's not the type to cause trouble, and he's refreshingly human.

Heh. Never thought he'd be happy that someone was human. "Maybe I can sneak you into Seth's shed when he's not around to see what he's doing wrong." The smirk on his face implies that he's not serious, but you never know. Cricket's moonshine is good enough to consider the idea.

"I never believed in them," he tells the other man. "Even less so when I found out I was a Cylon. But I don't believe in the Cylon god, either." He shrugs and takes a sip of moonshine. "A lot harder to be agnostic in the Nexus though."

It's impossible not to find Cricket's response endearing, even for someone like Caspar. "We call him Eros," he says quietly. "They had a kid named Bliss. Appropriate, if you think about it." He smiles faintly, dwelling on the symbolism. "It's one of the few love stories in the Sacred Scrolls that has a happy ending. Even with Aphrodite playing hardball. It's a good choice."

If there's anyone who can duck in and out of a place without drawing too much attention to himself, it's Cricket. He's not a spy or anything, but he exudes ordinary-ness, and harmlessness, and frequently just flies under peoples' radars. He has no idea how useful a gift that is.

He laughs at the suggestion, and if he thought it was serious he would probably agree any time. Either way, he'll take it as a compliment. "Or send him to me and I'll school 'im," he offers.

His brows crease thoughtfully. "You found out you're a Cylon?" Adia mentioned that it's hard to tell a Cylon from a human, but somehow Cricket never expected it to be so hard to tell that they didn't always know themselves.

Lord. That sounds like it could be an awful shock. "Uh...you don't have to talk about it. Just surprised me to hear."

Cupid and Psyche are likely a safer topic. "I think the idea of the soul and love belonging together is nice. Can't blame Aphrodite but so much for being harsh, though. Trying to protect her son."

The counter offer makes Caspar snort lightly in amusement. "He'd be too busy losing his shit over being in the Nexus, but if there's no marked improvement in the next batch, I'll keep it in mind." It would be funny to witness Seth's reaction to the Nexus, but it's honestly not worth the fallout. Even if it leads to better brandy.

"Yes," he replies flatly, unsure what to do with Cricket's surprise or sympathy. Adia hadn't already told him this? Maybe now that the Cylon is back in her life, she doesn't feel the need to share as much. Which ironically makes him feel more awkward for Cricket not to know. "I was a sleeper agent. My brother -- one of the other models -- planted false memories into my brain and then got me onboard a research vessel. The same one that Adia was on, that's how I met her. We had about three months together before the war broke out. Lucky me, the first Cylon to be identified was one of my own model. I went from colleague to public enemy in about five seconds flat."

Cricket's right -- it was an awful shock. Despite the evenness of his delivery, Cricket might notice the way Caspar's hands shake a little as he helps himself to a healthy swig of moonshine afterwards.

"That's what she wants you to think," he says acerbically in regards to Aphrodite. "There was also the fact that a mortal woman was getting a little too much attention for her beauty and charm. That's why she sent her son down there in the first place, to have her fall in love with a monster. Poor bastard nicked himself with his own arrow and it was game over."

He pauses a moment to reflect on his own words and his expression softens considerably. "If I had to give thanks to a Lord of Kobol, though, it'd be her. I wouldn't be here if Adia hadn't seen something inside me that was worth keeping around. I'd go through the same trials as Psyche, if that's what it took."

His gaze fixes on the other man keenly. "How about you? You have a sweetheart?"

Cricket looks thoughtful as Caspar gives him some background. His lips press together and his brow creases, and it could easily be mistaken as a look of confusion; some people make that mistake with him. That Appalachian accent isn't identified with the highly intelligent in his world, and neither are his natural slow, quiet mannerisms. He's simple, in a way. Innocent. But he's not stupid, and he's more perceptive about a lot of things than he seems.

And he's analyzing every word Caspar is saying, not to mention reading his body language.

He's not going to say anything now. But a couple days from now he'll probably go to Loki and tell him he should make friends with Caspar, because they might find something in common. What, he won't say. That's not his place.

He'd reach out to offer comfort, but that didn't go so well before, so he only holds his silence for a moment, nodding slowly. "Ain't nothing pretty about war, either, is there?" He says quietly, rhetorically. And not from personal experience, exactly, but...he has some idea what he's talking about.

"I don't know," he says of Aphrodite. "Ain't it pretty much always the goddesses in the stories getting jealous of mortal people and lashing out? When the gods misbehave it's cause they're grabbing someone they shouldn't be grabbing, and that always ends up with the person they grabbed becoming a tree or a star or a bird or something. I reckon there's a reason them goddesses are always so angry, and it's probably not even really the mortals they're angry at."

He might expound upon this theory further, except then Caspar looks at him and asks that question and he's just not sure how to respond, turning several different shades of pink and peering into his own half-empty mason jar.

"Well...I reckon that depends how you define it. I couldn't really tell you, sir, if anyone feels that way for me. There was...someone, back home. But I ain't gonna see them again, and I wasn't what he was lookin' for anyway." Not that Cricket never had a girlfriend back home, either, but that was never serious and never lasted long.

"Here, though?" He shrugs, but if he has a tell, it's in the way his gaze flickers to the younger of the two Lokis.

That's going to be a tall order on Cricket's part. Caspar has a natural wariness towards gods and magic, and he doesn't make friends easily. But it's true that he has at least one thing in common with the adopted Asgardian. He has something in common with Loki and Cricket both, actually, but if Cricket isn't going to ask him how he managed to get from a locked down spaceship to a Cylon resurrection hub, he's not about to tell.

Cricket's response is the best of all possible outcomes. Caspar isn't looking for pity. "War's hell," he says grimly, then rolls his eyes at his own tone. "But it could have been a lot worse for me. Don't concern yourself about it, okay? I'm fine."

So long as he's not thinking about it, anyway.

That's a rather insightful argument that Cricket offers. Caspar nods a little, impressed. "That's the real problem, though, what you just said. It's not the mortals they're angry at, but they drag us into it, anyway. Look what happened to Hunter, caught in the middle of all those goddesses." He frowns, tapping at his jar of moonshine. "Even when they're benevolent, they don't see us as equals."

He could go on about that -- at Loki's party, no less -- but Cricket's response to his question is far more interesting. He doesn't miss that brief glance towards the younger Loki. The fact that it's another man doesn't matter at all to the Cylon -- barely anyone on Atlantis cares about that, especially not any of the robots -- but the fact that he has a crush on a god is another matter entirely.

And after Caspar went on that little rant about gods, too. Whoops. "A little advice?" he says. "Don't be an idiot like me and wait three months to tell someone how you feel. And get them flowers. Everyone likes flowers."

"You don't know that for sure," Cricket says. "They ain't all the same. I mean, I reckon you're right about the Pleiades. Miss Caleno, anyway. I liked her a lot, and I trust her to be fair, but she didn't see us as equal, for sure. But they all have different things they're interested in. Maybe there are some out there that respect humans, too."

He hasn't really thought about that much in the context of the younger Loki. Cricket is a bit of a follower, and he's susceptible to a charismatic personality, which Loki (either Loki, really) is. He's seen a gentleness in the younger version's teasing charm, too. It's more than enough, with or without equal respect, but Cricket probably doesn't ask for that as often as he should.

He glances up at Caspar with a look of open surprise. He didn't realize he was that transparent, and it's doing nothing to clear up the blush on his cheeks. "Um." He says, nodding because he's not sure what to say to that.

"Flowers. M'kay. What, uh, what kind?"

No, he doesn't, but he's cynical enough to think that must be how it is for all gods. It's difficult enough for a human to see a Cylon as equal, or vice versa. How much harder would it be for a god?

He's not quite so callous as to crush Cricket's optimism. It reminds him too much of Adia. "It's a big multiverse," he concedes. "So maybe there are. But let them prove that to you first."

He smiles a little at the surprise on Cricket's face, "Whatever flowers they like most," he replies, taking pity on the young man and not discussing the crush itself. "If you don't know that, roses, tulips, or orchids are always a safe bet. Just stay away from the color yellow. It symbolizes friendship and will send the wrong message."

Loki has only sung karaoke once before, although he's been a spectator a number of times since. It's bound to be way more interesting after having a little to drink.

And over here, Harley is the first one to hit the dance floor. There is nothing better than just dancing to the music.

She doesn't have a dance party right now... but she doesn't care.

Azwel doesn't even know what karaoke is. He doesn't recognise any of the songs. But he knows dancing when he sees it and, wouldn't you know it, he can cut a rug with the best of 'em. Perhaps he'll join her. Sure, one'd think someone from the 1500s would be terrible with this kind of music, until one remembers drum circles and faerie revels had never been truly eliminated. Music hasn't changed one bit, it's simply gotten louder.

Harley makes it easy for someone to join in. She just looks so relaxed and free on the dance floor. Like she doesn't mind if you don't know a two-step from a box-step. Really... it is just about dancing.

It is, really, isn't it? At least he's got rhythm. While whatever it is he's doing looks a bit like a jig and a bit like something out of Bollywood choreography, if he manages to catch hold of her hands, it'll become something a little more structured.

She takes a hold of his hands, just to guide him into something more structured. And puts one of his hands on her hips with a grin.

"One two. Three four. One two. Three four..." She counts.

Ah, this is bringing back memories. He'd learnt similar steps in a great many more formal environments. But rest assured that formal did not at all mean sedate. Oh, no, the upbeat tempo is woven into this new form. He's not a bad dance partner at all, really, as he follows with ease. And if one wants to get fancy, he's all for it!

"Did you never study the science of dance?" Harley grins at him.

"I did, though one cannot be an expert at everything one studies!" is his merry reply. There just is no easy way to harsh this man's mood, which is useful at a party.

He'll turn this into a whirling reel, then, close and fast, feet a blur. Well, it sounded like a challenge.

It might be a challenge to some... but Harley is a skilled dancer and a skilled gymnast. She will be able to keep up to the close and fast dance. Laughing as he whirls her around the dance floor.

It's a good job both of them are quite fit, as it doesn't seem as though the music will slow down any time soon.

"Is this better?" Azwel asks, what can only be described as a big ol shiteating grin on his face.

"Are you having fun? Because if you are... then this is better!"

"How can one not have fun while dancing?"

It boggles the mind of even the deepest philosophers.

Loki just watches from the sidelines for a long moment. She is breathtaking. He almost hates to spoil the tableau she creates by entering it.

Really, what a remarkable woman he's found--or, actually, no, more like she's found him.

Tonight he's planning on tending to his counterpart, but that doesn't mean he can't take a few moments for her. At last, he takes a few graceful steps onto the dance floor and bows while offering her his hand. "If I may?"

"My pleasure..." Harley takes his hand, pulling him close to her. Tonight might not be about her... but she is glad to have him in her arms.

She wraps her arms around him, tugging him close.

"Hey handsome..."

"Hello, dearest," he murmurs back, a gentle endearment. The music is slow for the moment, his dance steps very much like a waltz, but the warmth between them and the gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.

"You know already, I think, why we've arranged this party." He cuts a graceful turn with her in his arms.

"I would not have him go unmourned. And I knew your heart had room for compassion. When he leaves, will you light a candle with me?"

Harley rests her head on his shoulder, smiling up at him. "Yeah you did..."

"No one should go unmourned. I am glad you knew how to send him off appropriately..." Harley smiled. "Of course. I can do that."

He kisses her forehead, eyes closing, full of feeling. There's no need to vocalize all that's going on in his head. Some of it can't even safely be said, but even after a short acquaintance with him, she's perceptive. She gets the gist of it.

"One for him, one for my mother," he says softly.

And then, lest things get too maudlin, he goes into a wilder turn and a dip, holding her in his arms.

She nods slightly at his request. And tries not to think about losing him too.

"Just light candles? Can I also sing you all a song?"

[edit: this is the dancing thread]

Edited 2018-11-17 18:12 (UTC)

Oh, this Loki doesn't plan on going anywhere any time soon.

Granted, his best laid plans often turn around and bite him in the ass, but still.

"I didn't know you could sing," he tells her softly, and smiles. "I'd like to hear it, by all means."

"I guess I am still full of surprises..." Harley purred against his neck.

Softly, she sings a a Nordic song that she recently took time to learn. Her dancing matching the tone of the song.

He goes very quiet to listen to her sing, head tilting subtly as if to better catch the sound. Her voice is lower than he'd have expected, pleasantly resonant, and he fancies he can feel the sounds vibrate in her chest when he holds her close.

"I have heard that one," he says as she winds to a close, "but not often. You sing it well, very well. At this point, I suppose I will have to resign myself to being perpetually surprised by you."

"I am very glad to keep you surprised." She leans up to kiss his lips softly. She will definitely keep their relationship interesting, even for a God of Mischief.

When the karaoke starts to heat up, an argument ensues. It's not serious, neither Cricket nor Loki are upset with one another, but the former is scowly and stubborn and the latter is needling him gleefully.

"Hell, no, I ain't singin' Wrecking Ball, and there's nothing you can say to make me."

"Well, there aren't going to be any on the list from your time period any more than there will be arias from Asgardian opera. You have to choose something."

"Says who?"

"I think it would make my alternate happy." There's a lilt in his voice that Cricket does not appreciate.

"...Fine. Gimme the list. Still not doin' Wrecking Ball."

The alternate in question is unaware of the mischief his twin is stirring up, just far enough away that it looked like he was just helping Cricket pick a song, wasn't that sweet?

If Cricket looked his way he'd see the trickster, tipsy as he left him, offering a crooked but genuine smile when he noticed the glance.

The version of Loki that is hosting this particular event has no clear idea how his alternate feels about the kid. And it doesn't matter that much if this is his last night alive; a little positive attention never hurt anyone. He can tell Cricket is fascinated, and teasing him comes naturally.

It's all meant in fun. Sometimes he forgets people have feelings that might come into play later.

In the meantime, Cricket does notice the younger Loki looking over, and when he first meets his eyes he looks eight kinds of flustered and disgruntled, but then it melts away into an utterly sheepish smile in response.

Oh, okay. Shit. Looks like he's doing this.

The great advantage to having karaoke in the Nexus is the ridiculously expansive list of songs available. They're not all from Earth. The ones that are from Earth are from various time periods, in a wide variety of styles, and finally Cricket finds one he knows, and that he figures he won't look like a total idiot if he sings it.

He's not much of a performer, and he's decidedly awkward and fidgety on stage, but he actually has a pretty good voice, and excellent pitch. If anyone present has ever watched a church crowd practicing Shape Note singing, the way he moves his left hand to keep the beat of the song will be familiar.

The song itself may not be. It's folksy, acoustic, almost like early bluegrass.

Big ol Buzzard sitting on a fence, watchin the chickens play
He's sitting with his best friend ol' Chicken Hawk,
Chicken Hawk jump up and say,
"Why don't we invite us a chicken home for supper today?"

And the Buzzard looks at him with a baleful eye,
takes a few seconds 'fore he give a reply,
turn his neck nearly all the way around,
points to the sky and he says with a frown:
The Lord'll provide, yes the Lord'll provide,
just be patient brother, and the Lord'll provide.

Chicken Hawk says, "but I'm hungry,
my stomach's start to rumble like a train!"
He spies a fat chicken in the barn yard,
Chicken Hawk jumps up and screams,
"I hear the Lord helps them who helps themselves, my friend!"
"No, the Lord'll provide, I said the Lord'll provide,"
that's all brother Buzzard said: "the Lord'll provide."

The song is only half over, and he's bright pink. At this point he has to close his eyes so he doesn't look at the gathering and see anyone watching him.

Don't worry, he'll be okay. He's just not good with attention.

((The song in question. But Cricket probably does not sound quite so twangy.))

Not like he'd be upset. It was a rare thing for Loki to feel like this about anyone, and playful teasing was the way of the pair of them.

The way Cricket's discomfiture melts to a smile when they meet eyes just makes Loki inordinately pleased, especially when the man finally seems to pick a song. Fidgety on stage, but then not everyone was comfortable in front of crowds.

And unfamiliar or not, the song choice was interesting, the beat catchy and Loki was fairly certain that poor impatient Chicken Hawk was going to have a bad time. It didn't hurt that Cricket had a nice singing voice either, the trickster sipping his drink as he watched the performance, toe idly tapping under the table.

It's a pretty low-key little folk song, wedged between showtunes and pop-rock ballads. The other Loki seems mildly surprised by the selection, gaze flitting between his alternate and Cricket, then brightening with satisfaction.

He's got what he wanted out of that exchange, and will take the opportunity to seek out Harley, now.

With his eyes closed, Cricket can think about the lyrics and tune he's singing, rather than the audience, and when he hits the last verse, he starts smiling again.

Chicken Hawk starts chasing chickens,
chickens start to squawking and run,
the farmer comes out of the farmhouse,
the farmer got a BIG shotgun,
the farmer he blows that Chicken Hawk to kingdom come.

And the Buzzard looks at him with a baleful eye,
takes a few seconds 'fore he give a reply,
turn his neck nearly all the way around,
and he looks at the Chicken Hawk laying on the ground:
"I knew the Lord'd provide. Yes the Lord'll provide",
that's all brother Buzzard said "The Lord'll provide!"

He goes through the chorus twice more, and not without enthusiasm. The story is pretty much a textbook example of the kind of humor Cricket prefers: the dark juxtaposed with the ridiculous.

He's grinning when he finishes up and puts the mic back, half with relief. And then he almost falls down the stairs of the little stage thanks to unsteadiness caused by a blend of liquor and nerves.

Oh, well. It's not like everyone else in the room isn't drunk.

[Come on Eddie, don't be such a wuss.

It was silly, true. Likely dumb, but the people doing this karaoke looked to be having fun! He and Eddie deserved to have fun too! Eddie had perked up a bit after some food and some drinks but surely he'd enjoy this too!

Well he'd better because Venom is just casually walking them over to the selection screen, before he's extending from his host's shoulder to talk to him properly.]

You got a favorite?

[This is such a ridiculous idea. Seriously, but it's nice to have V out and about. Able to talk.]

I don't see a lot of Eminem on this.

[Jesus. He's used to being on TV.] It's gotta be a duet though right? Fuck what about Evanescence?

Eddie we are not going to be That Guy.

[Venom only half understands what That Guy is but like hell he's going to be that!

The symbiote borrows Eddie's hand to skim through the duet options, head squinching slightly as he looks for something at least familiar.]

Honestly, I've got a reputation to maintain...

Okay I need you to know where you got the idea of "that guy" from because. First of all. I'm not that guy and second of all I'm not basic get that word out of your head.

[He is so cool. So so cool.]

...I have taste.

Baaasic~

[Sorry Eddie did you want to keep some dignity because that is a long coily tongue just sliding up the side of your face and ruining your hair.]

You even taste like pumpkin spice, my darling.

[An eyebrow is raised and Eddie scrolls through the feed, amused. It reminds him of Anne so much - that gentle ribbing - that he feels at ease. So instead he rolls up a selection and points at it.]

Just for that you're singing this with me.

[Let's call the whole thing off. Yes? No? Stop his finger now.]

[Beep!

Venom ain't skurred he'll sing your choice Eddie. Even if the name gets a side-eye from him.]

Bring it on.

Things have come to a pretty pass
Our romance is growing flat,
For you like this and the other
While I go for this and that,

[He can't sing. It's his (one? no. it's a big flaw) big flaw. the biggest. So he sounds like a squeaking duck but it's there and he's just - amused because -

This is kind of funny. He's not romancing the symbiote. It's just - his friend. His buddy.

Right?]

[You keep telling yourself that, darling dearest.]

Goodness knows what the end will be
Oh I don't know where I'm at
It looks as if we two will never be one
Something must be done~

[Venom doesn't sound like a strangled waterfowl but he can't sing either. He's flat and off-tempo, but his little head is bobbing, and it's fun so he doesn't see the harm.]

[Does he try a two step? Yep. One foot in front of the other trying for showmanship. He's good at showmanship.]

You say either and I say either,
You say neither and I say neither
Either, either neither, neither
Let's call the whole thing off.

WHAT.

NO

EDDIE-

[Sorry give him a moment because Venom missed looking at the screen to see the lines so that last bit came COMPLETELY OUT OF LEFT FIELD.]

We're on stage! You gotta give the people a little bit of ...something. First rule of performing. Being on camera!

[He was a reporter but he had to have stage presence. He had to have social media presence. He's a presence.]

We're not calling it off!!!

[Sorry Eddie, Venom is a little bit worked up now, just look at those tendrils thrashing around and flailing.]

[Oh.

And he can feel that worked up emotion. Rising in his chest. The fear of abandonment and isolation. It's so real that tears prick his eyes.]

We're not. We're not. Come on back in for a second V. We're-

[he gestures. Waving the song off and ignoring the rest of the words.]

I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not. I promise. I got us.

[Venom let out a growl as he shifted, oozing down to be closer, trying to pretend he wasn't nearly as rattled as he was.

Pay no attention to the roiling mass of feelings that was the symbiote Eddie, he's totally fine.]

You said it, not me!

[It's hard to not feel those feelings. Those emotions because he's crying. Running off the stage and hold V. Gently. Ever so gently.]

...It's a song V. calm down. It's a joke.

I'm not going to leave you. Not ever.

[Oh no. No, Eddie. Venom sees those tears and he Doesn't Like Them, lifting his face to press against Eddie's in an attempt to both seek out and offer comfort.]

Promise.

I promise love.

[Fuck. Is this love? It doesn't feel like it. It feels like something deeper, something warmer. It's addicting. He's never felt so complete.]

It's a song you silly goopy goofball. Just a song. We're stuck together. Symbiosis remember? How can I prove...How can I prove I care?

[People are staring at him. He can't give a shit.]

[The symbiote will just be winding tendrils around Eddie's head to stay put. Silly to be sure, but he needed it. The promise though, the emotions he felt bubbling up were incredibly soothing, helping to keep Venom from going straight off the deep end.

Stuck together, don't want to just have a host stuck with him, wants a host that wants to be there that needs Venom as much as the symbiote needed them-]

We're one. You and me.

[He's in the creature's head and the creature's in his head and when the creautre says "wants to be there" he remembers Anne. He remembers Anne walking out and away and how hard he'd gotten drunk that night. How he couldn't sleep, twisting over and over in the motel 6 bed before he moved his things out two days later. How he couldn't sleep for days after she left because he...wanted her. Not even as a partner or a friend, just her.

When he was alone thoughts of his father crept in. Thoughts of his mother. Of his sister's disapproval. Of how badly he wanted someone to just stay because something in his mind was broken. He'd always known it, but he wanted to be...to be needed and taken care of. Because years of his father just glaring at him, blaming him for his mother's death...

He kissed the top of the creature's head on impulse, Holding it against him.]

We are Venom.

Nothing's going to change that. But that's a song bud.

[He never would be alone. Not again. Not if Venom had anything to say about it. And he did.

Especially with that response that just had a small swell of comfort. The physical gestures were good, they helped to ease that tension, but it was the words. We are Venom, freely spoken by Eddie that really helped.

Even while he scoffed at the last bit, there was still a curl of tendrils around Eddie's hands as he sank into his grasp finally.]

Your taste in music sucks. [Not really, but he had a rep to protect!]

"Little Blob DUDE!" Harley beams at sighting her new friend.

"Are you going to sing? Let's do a Duet!"

Thor has refused to sing karaoke before, but that was clearly because he wasn't anywhere near tipsy enough to think it was a good idea. And because it was a targeted attempt to make him embarrassed in public, but never mind that part.

Now it's only a peripheral attempt to make him embarrassed in public, which is much better.

The god of thunder has had enough of Loki's mysterious bottles to put a slight wobble in his step as he goes to poke at the song list and see if there's anything he even recognizes.

Aaaaand zip! There is a Loki next to him in a matter of seconds after he shows interest in the song list. It's not even subtle. But that's because Loki himself is well and truly drunk by this point.

"If I may make a suggestion?" He leans his elbows on the nearest table like he's not sure he can be comfortably upright just now. "This one?"

He taps at the page, right next to the entry that reads Thunderstruck, AC/DC. It's an objectively appropriate choice, but damn would it be hard to sing.

Thor's laugh is unrestrained, unburdened by the weight of the crown and all the baggage that's come along with it. As it happens, he knows this one - thanks to Stark providing the soundtrack to several battles - and rather doubts he has the right voice for it. "Come on, brother, you can't let me sing it alone." He throws an arm around Loki's shoulder, hugging him close to his side so he can't squirm away.

It only takes a few tries to find the menu that lists duets, and his grin broadens when he sees one of the titles on offer. "Here," he says, stabbing the entry called Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better), Irving Berlin. "If there is a more fitting song here, I dare you to find it."

Oh, good Norns. He hasn't heard Thor laugh like that for years. Loki can't help but smile back, although that smile dissolves into a small yowl of surprise and outrage when Thor drags him into a side-hug.

"You're an oaf," he says, but the laughter in his eyes says he doesn't exactly mean it, and when he grabs at the front of Thor's tunic, it's for balance, not a move of aggression. "Right, then, what madness is this?"

He peers at the song title, opens his mouth, and closes it again, because when you're right, you're right, and Thor is right. His chuckles starts out low in his chest, and he claps a hand to his forehead for a moment in exaggerated dismay.

"Oh, Thor. You should never make dares with me. But you're right. This does look like a fitting choice." He scrolls through the lyrics briefly, then asks, "Fine. But who is Frank and who is Annie?"

When it comes right down to it, he's pretty sure he can hit a higher note than Thor, but then he's also pretty sure Thor can hold out a note for longer. So either way should be equally ~~disastrous~~ amazing.

Throwing down a challenge to a trickster is like playing with fire, Loki moreso than most. Does Thor care? Not at the moment. Because he has Loki dead to rights, and what a glorious feeling it is. If he had the focus to do so, he might write down the date for posterity. For now he'll just revel in it, delighted that his brother is laughing right along with him, the warm haze of the alcohol softening the sharp edges of recent years.

"I'll be Frank, of course. Unless you want to duel me for it. I choose Rock Paper Scissors." And he holds out his fist, ready to throw down Midgardian style. That he hasn't let go of Loki with his other arm doesn't seem to be stopping him.

"I suppose you have always been the more frank of the two of us," Loki tells him, and then giggles like a loon at his own pun.

But he's never going to turn down a duel with Thor, either. At least not one he has a fair chance of winning and that won't result in serious injury for anyone. (Theoretically, between the two of them, with both drunk, they could make Rock, Paper, Scissors catastrophically destructive, but that probably won't happen here.) Loki holds out a fist, thinks better of it, does a clumsily elaborate fist-bump procedure with Thor whether he wants him to or not, and then dissolves into laughter again for a moment.

What was in that faery wine?

"Sorry. Right. On three?" He gets himself under control after a moment, but now he may be dependent on Thor's arm holding him up. "One, two, three--"

And paper!

Loki's amusement is infectious, and Thor laughs too, both times, in a manner that probably isn't nearly as regal as his titles would suggest. It's all so ridiculous and wonderful, the warm glow of alcohol sending the world off-kilter in the best possible way. His brother must feel it too, if the way he's leaning into Thor's grasp is any indication.

Thor barely remembers to shake his fist on the count, his reactions half a breath behind at first, before he pulls his focus together enough to throw the sign for scissors. "Ha! Better luck next time, Annie. You can have the next one." Does this mean Thor might sing more than one song? Signs point to Yes.

"I beg your pardon?" He laughs. "What makes you think Frank was the role I'd have preferred? Perhaps I wanted to be Annie."

He knows next to nothing about the characters themselves, but the songbook says the song comes from the musical 'Annie, Get Your Gun' so obviously she's the more important of the two voices. This suits him fine! "But since you won the scissor rock game, you do get first choice."

He gives Thor a squeeze, then straightens and shoves him toward the stage. "Get up there, and don't make us look bad."

He's following! He really is. Although he's halfway considering shapeshifting into his comfortable feminine form for the purposes of this song. It would make it easier to sing, but would it be more or less funny that way? These considerations matter.

Thor's already damn near forgotten why they were quibbling over who gets to be who anyway. He doesn't know anything about the characters either, but Loki plays a far more convincing woman than he ever will, and no, that time with the wedding does not count because they were both in dresses, thank you very much.

He staggers a little at the shove, stumbling in the direction of the stage, and throws a hand out behind him in an attempt to grab at Loki and pull him along, whether he's following or not. This is exciting! When was the last time they had this much fun at a party? It's probably been centuries. Maybe Asgard could have benefited from more karaoke and less mindnumbingly boring speeches. (Sorry, Father.)

"Me, look bad? Impossible," he laughs. "Any way you can sing, I'll sing it better." What? Loki wasn't the only one skimming the lyrics just now.

Loki begs to differ. The time with the wedding dress absolutely counts. Although even at that rate, Loki probably fit a traditional feminine ideal better, dolled up as Thor's handmaiden.

He was already following Thor to the stage, but when he's grabbed he doesn't resist or even grumble, caught up in Thor's mood. He's laughing a little, needing a moment to steady himself on stage. It's a good thing there are two microphones, or they might end up tussling over possession of the one, even if objectively neither needs one to be heard. Thor can be way louder, but Loki is not incapable of projecting.

And his musical education has been well-managed by Frigga. It behooves a prince to have some courtly manners, particularly a prince that's better built for diplomacy than battle. He was taught extensively, and wasn't shy of using his skill and charm at diplomatic functions. Someone no doubt had some sort of amusing comment about him allowing himself to be paraded around like a trained pet, but that joke would not have been uttered around any of the royal family themselves.

"Oh, really? I can sing anything better than you," he fires back at Thor with sparkling eyes. One would almost think they planned that as a segue from the way the music starts up right after.

No one performs improv like the sons of Odin?

Kinner isn't usually the karaoke kind of man, but he can sing - just not well, and he's too drunk to know any better. His voice, normally gruff or soft depending on his mood, is loud and raspy when he sings. The cook stands up, shakily, and breaks into a traditional folk song from his neck of the woods.

He doesn't know any of these newfangled songs anyway. He's from 1938. Clearly a lot has happened since then.

Edited 2018-11-23 03:48 (UTC)

Cricket is in the process of recovering from his death by blushing after his own performance, but he perks up when Kinner sings. He recognizes the music, in fact, and whistles along with the chorus, applauding when Kinner wraps up.

Applauding, in fact, a little more loudly than his normal. Cricket's had a lot to drink tonight.

Kinner’s drunk, but aware enough to be surprised and pleased that Cricket likes his singing. He’s no musician, but he’s not opposed to learning, and he knows how to fiddle some. And his voice needs work.

He’s emboldened to choose something else, a lively tune from back home.

Edited 2018-11-25 20:43 (UTC)

The two Tatsuyas was just passing by the Café to check on Katsuya and Ice Bear when they saw the karaoke machine. After guitar playing, karaoke is their jam, as expected from Japanese youths. They don't get the occasion, but if there's karaoke involved, well, that means it's time to party.

"We should duet something," the one in the neon hoodie noted as he checked the song list. "Something Freddie!"

"Uh, are there any Queen songs we can duet together?" The other in the leather jacket asked.

"Dude, Tatsu. Bohemian Rhapsody. I'll even do the falsetto for you."

If anyone ever wondered what Tatsuya Suou sounded like in stereo, you're in luck today.

Really, anyone with an interest in any aspect of the evening is welcome as far as this Loki is concerned. The bigger and more chaotic the celebration, the better. He promised a night to remember.

He's pretty drunk right now, and wouldn't normally recognize either of the Tatsuyas anyway, but he's willing to cheer them on as the music starts. He may even end up humming to the music before the end of it. There is something magical about Bohemian Rhapsody. The appeal is inescapable, even to gods and aliens.

The youth with the Neon hoodie grinned after finishing the song. "Thank you, we do requests! Any other Queen songs you like, we can perform!"

"Anything by Queen?" He rests his chin unsteadily in his hands and smirks. "Well, I'll have to request 'In the Lap of the Gods Revisited', then."

Technically, fire is within Loki's providence. Between the two of them, the results are very bright, eye-catching, and spectacular, and probably breathtakingly dangerous.

Bright, spectacular and dangerous is practically Blaze's unofficial motto. She's officially checking out the aerial explosions out of duty, but it's obvious the only threat here is the fire hazard and, well. Clearly her duty as a Guardian demands she stick around and keep an eye on that, right? Ghost agrees!

The armored robot nudges her way gently among the first spectators with a friendly nod to anyone who looks her way. She plants herself as close as she can get without missing too much of the view, head craned back to take in the lights shimmering and dancing above, every burst of color reflecting on her white plating. Her tiny Ghost floats above her shoulder, his single blue optic just as transfixed by the spectacle. All things fiery are of great interest to them lately, but it's an enjoyable show regardless of that. At a particularly brilliant (and noisy) sequence she lets out a delighted whoop and applauds with enthusiastic appreciation.

Prrrrrobably they shouldn't be playing with fire while they're drunk. It's absolutely true, though, that neither Loki is intending on causing major property damage or loss of life and/or limb, so...yeah. On a safety scale of one to ten, one being 'nbd' and 10 being 'beware of fallout', this is about a six.

Some of what this particular iteration of Loki is doing is a blend of complex light-bending illusion, rather than simple explosions. One fireburst soars skyward and splits off into a triad of bluish-white bursts, which then rain down like falling petals, or snow. The trickster himself shines green-gold with the magic he's casting, hands extended toward the display.

But it's very nice to have his work appreciated, and at a good moment to pause, he turns his head to grin at them. "Not bad? I was thinking I might make some butterflies next."

"Butterflies." Just a second. It's not a word that comes up often, where she's from. "Oh, yeah! Yeah, they're pretty. I've got a soft spot for dragonflies, personally." Certain people keep trying to tell her those aren't real, but she's not buying it.

Blaze drags her gaze down to him, then to ask cheerfully, "What's the occasion? Or are we just scaring off evil spirits for the hell of it?"

"Hmm, do you?" If he weren't drunk he probably would not be interested in a stranger's opinions on the beauty of insect life. "Is there a reason you have a preference for them?"

"They are certainly...different creatures," he goes on, rambling a little as he calls up another thread of fine, bright flame. "Like colored needles darting through the aether."

He laughs, then, and the flames spiral upward. "Sometimes, we are the evil spirits. But no. The occasion is...let us call it an affirmation of life."

"Knowing me? Probably because they're faster. At least the Venusian ones are. You've seen the original kind, though? On Earth?" She's a little hopeful, curious gaze following the ascending flame. His boast she doesn't take too seriously, although the little Ghost, perhaps, will file away those words about evil spirits for later. As he does everything else.

Affirmations of life, though. How could she not fervently approve? "Oh, I'm all for that." Ghost floats a little closer to her, whispering, and she adds, "Just, you know, watch where you're slinging the fire magic."

"Venusian dragonflies," he repeats, beaming skyward. "I have never heard of such a thing, but now I'm glad I have. Yes, I've seen the kind they grow on Midgard. On Earth, rather. Same thing. They were tremendous once, I've heard, in the dawn of the planet's history."

Before his time. He's less than two-thousand years old, after all. "They are usually blue or glossy green, on Earth. Half the length of my hand at the largest."

There's another explosion of light in the sky high above, and he pauses to watch it with open satisfaction before turning to look at her better. "Of course. I assume no one wants a facefull of sparks, even in the Nexus."

He's not going to try to break anything, although unfortunately, chances are even if he does accidentally burn something down he won't be that sorry. In the meantime, he holds out a hand and casts a delicate little illusory dragonfly over his palm--a common green darner. It probably looks more like a hologram than magic, just now. He's not exerting himself.

"Hah! Knew they were real. I get people back home trying to convince me they're a myth." She sounds as pleased by that as by the magical pyrotechnics - pyrokinetics? - above. "I figured, people on Venus named theirs after something... oh!"

The Exo's gaze snaps back around, following the flicker of green in his hand, and her glowing eyes flare brighter with appreciation. Every time she speaks the inside of her mouth flashes the same shade. "Now that's a good trick! So that's what the real thing looks like, huh? The drawings don't look so delicate."

Maybe it's because she'd never dare touch one in reality, but Blaze reaches out to poke the illusion as lightly as her armored fingers allow. (There's a faint memory, very distant, of doing the same thing to teaching holos once upon a time.) Which brings Ghost slipping silently out to take a closer look, both from curiosity and the hard-earned lesson that he really needs to watch what his Guardian pokes at.

She's never worried about getting a facefull of sparks, that's for sure.

"That seems an odd thing for people to assume they're mythological. They're not even that bizarre as far as insects go. Centipedes and mantids are far stranger." Loki...sort of likes bugs. At least on an aesthetic level. He doesn't want to live with them, especially.

"I excel at good tricks," he says, verbally preening, and holds out the hand cupped under the illusion gamely. Where her touch passes through it, it shimmers green-gold and dissolves, only to reform a second later.

Loki tends not to throw sparks except when he really means to, but it's hard to maintain an image while he's drunk and the airspace where it lies is being prodded. "It would be charming if they could breathe fire," he muses. "But the real thing does not. At least the Earth ones don't."

"That's kinda how I looked at it. But we've lost a lot, on our Earth. I guess it's hard to parse through the fragments for what's real and what isn't, when you haven't seen it for yourself. People leave behind stories and records of all kinds of things that aren't real. Animals, people- continents, even."

Okay, poking isn't helpful, but she does think it's a cool trick. Useful, she'd say. These small moments of wonder are part of what makes the Nexus so dear to her. Plus, people here have some fun ideas. "Tiny little bugs puffing fire? That'd be cute."

"At my size, I don't think I agree," Ghost is obliged to point out, but she just chuckles.

"The Venusian kind are much bigger." She holds her hands up to demonstrate, about half a foot apart. "Eight legs - they're not real insects, of course. Guess you'd call it convergent evolution. No fire-breathing either. I'm not sure even real dragons breathe fire, come to think of it."

"Lost...insects?" It takes him a moment to catch up. "Oh. My apologies. Was there some sort of apocalypse or mass extinction? That sounds traumatic."

Under normal circumstances, he can make an expression of sympathy sound like an insult, but he's trying to be polite right now, and he's also too drunk to be snide. He looks genuinely concerned.

He blinks at Ghost and smiles. "What if they just breathed little puffs of bioluminescent gas that dissipated without burning anything?"

"And that depends on the dragon!" he tells Blaze. "Fáfnir breathed out venomous gases. Not fire, per se, but it certainly would have burned to come in contact with it."

Oh. Traumatic. There's a moment where she tilts her head slightly, as if trying to catch a faint sound (as if anything faint can be heard over the noisy celebrations around them). Whatever it was slips away from her, though: she inclines her head in somber acknowledgment instead.

"It was, I think. Full story's kinda long; the short version is we were attacked by something that knocked us all the way into a Dark Age. Came inside a nanometer of rendering humanity extinct. It's been more than a thousand years, though. We're fighting our way back."

The last is meant as reassurance: this is a grim turn of conversation, and while grim subjects don't bother her, this is a party and he looks so concerned. If he looks too worried she'll be compelled to pat his shoulder. She's a tactile kind of Exo.

"That would be pretty, actually," Ghost admits, now the specter of being chased by incendiary odonates is removed. He backs up a little as he looks up at Loki, the points of his shell turning a little clockwise, a little counter.

"Depends who's getting breathed on," Blaze laughs. "Sigurd would've had an easier time if he'd been a robot. Unless we're talking corrosive venom - that stuff's awful. Doesn't matter how good your gear is, it'll find a way through." Ugh. She gives an exaggerated shudder.

"Something? Or someone?" Even as drunk as he is, Loki can't help but cringe inwardly. He's not a bleeding heart for Midgard, particularly not versions of it outside his own universe, but what happens to humanity is a pretty good barometer, in his experience, for what happens to the rest of the universe.

And there is Thanos. He never forgets that possibility, which is more of an inevitability as far as he can tell.

They're getting a peculiar first impression of this Loki, then. First throwing around magic gleefully and now looking deeply worried about the state of their universe.

He's pleased they get the reference right away, and he smiles at Blaze again. "There's always something, though, isn't there? Paper covers rock, scissors cut paper, rock breaks scissors, and so on into infinity. Everyone has a weakness, and a strength, and sometimes a battle comes down to whether the hero can dodge the dragon's venom for long enough to get a blow in, rather than how well he is trained in the art of swordplay."

Theirs is not a case to challenge his theory. After all, in their universe humanity is just the latest in a horrifically long line of civilizations. This one simply didn't fight alone. Her glowing eyes narrow a little, not in anger but in contemplation.

"Heh. Good question. Sure wasn't a natural disaster. Our true enemy has a will, but I don't know if it's a person the way we think of it. No-one alive knows what it really is. It has armies, worshipers: we've fought those. It has immense power, and we've felt that. But there's little we know for sure about the Darkness itself."

At this stage there's going to be some shock if and when they realize who they're talking to. Blaze leans heavily on first impressions, and she rather likes this guy. He's got a sense of fun, he asks smart questions, he's mindful of signs of trouble in other universes. Trying to reconcile that with a name she knows mainly from Steve Rogers' stories (and admittedly some popular legends back home) is a guarantee of cognitive dissonance, to put it mildly.

She is pretty sure he's an Asgardian though, since Thor's around and she's never met anyone else here who casually references the old tales. Absent a specific name, that buys him some extra goodwill. "Tell me about it. Some battles you're just finding out who's going to get unlucky first. But it helps if you get team-mates with a complementary skillset. Or at least a lot of second chances!"

If you stuck around after the semi-impromptu fireworks show, your reward is a drunken cuddle pile. There's probably a wealth of blackmail material to be had.

He was exhausted. No real surprise, his twin had thrown one hell of a party. Loki was still incredibly drunk, which meant he was a bit more open with affection than he might normally be. The closest person who was warm and not about to push him away would get arms looped around them as the trickster just dragged himself in closer for a proper cling, hindered by the fact that he was half-wrapped in one of Harley's aerial silks still.

Loki can't remember ever getting quite so giddily intoxicated. He usually knows his limits, which are astronomical anyway--apparently the Jotun physiology, at least in his universe, gives him a tremendous resistance to poisons--but at the moment he's on his back on the floor with his legs looped up in one of Harley's silks, staring up at the ceiling as the others sway overhead.

He has this weird feeling like his head isn't attached to the rest of his body. It should be upsetting, but it's very pleasant, instead.

Oh! Wait, there's his body, after all. It's being hugged by someone next to him. He blinks and turns his head slowly, spies a highly familiar face, and chuckles softly.

"You." He says, infusing the word with all the meaning he can, because he's not sure what other words to include with it right now. "Just you."

...sure.

It's much more relaxing having his arms around someone- like they were anchoring him from drifting away with just how plastered he was. So what if he faced his fate tomorrow with a raging hangover? This was more than worth it.

He shot a crooked but genuine smile to his twin, one hand ruffling his hair lightly.

"Me!" It made sense, at least for the moment. "And you."

There's really no reason not to face ego-death with a hangover, as far as Loki is aware. Having a good night beforehand is all they can control, and they seem to have done pretty well at it.

This Loki is not prone to affection under normal circumstances, but these aren't those, and so his free arm goes around his counterpart and he bumps their foreheads together gently, then takes a moment to blink and make his eyes refocus.

"My true...gift to you," he says unsteadily, "is that you get to leave...me to deal with any fallout from this. And you get off scot-free."

Loki lets out a pleased hum at the feel of that little affection that he knows is rare from his twin. And as always, when given an inch, he goes for the whole mile, pressing a wobbly kiss to the tip of his nose.

"A fine gift indeed! Too bad I'm far too drunk to walk straight or we could go paint what little of the town we might have missed." His words might be a little slurred, but there was cheer there, Loki feeling just... comfortable and happy in the moment.

"I cannot tell you how proud I am of us...for finding a way to get this drunk."

He closes his eyes at the kiss and just smiles. This is absurd, and he'll be annoyed with himself later, and he doesn't care.

"You could steal Cricket's car," he suggest. "But that might end even worse than trying to walk."

"It is truly a pro-pre-pur-digious accomplishment." Yeah so drunk that he's tongue-tied? Definitely an achievement.

"We could... but too many fiddly bits to bother with there." Nope he'd rather stay snuggled up with his twin, nuzzling in against his shoulder.

"What word was that meant to be?" One Loki is tongue-tied, the other is giddy. He giggles for a little too long at that stumble.

"There will be consequences," he says happily. "Thor will laugh and laugh, and I will allow it." For you.

He has no clear idea what he's feeling with respect to his twin, only that there's a lot of it. Some sort of affection, he supposes. It doesn't have to be sorted out or clarified, just acknowledged.

"I... honestly don't remember?" His twin giggling just got him going, giggling as well in a soft, quavery tone.

"I trust you'll endure the consequences bravely." A kiss to the other's forehead in return for the unspoken addendum that he knew was there. Affection felt and returned clearly.

You know, taken out of context, the sound of two Lokis giggling together might be absolutely terrifying.

"I will. I will savor them slowly, like a fine wine. Of consequences." That fell apart quickly. He laughs again, and then sighs at the kiss.

"And I will be with you, my sweet twin."

Pause. Snort. Giggle. "...Brother from another mother?"

The sudden unexpected modern reference from his twin just had Loki spluttering a long moment before he burst into laughter along with the other, head dropping to let his forehead rest against Loki's shoulder.

"Yes- yes that's exactly right!"

Brother from another...Yggdrasil? But Loki is far too drunk to find a rhyme for 'Yggdrasil'. There might not even be one in English.

In any case, the laughter is very welcome, and prompts another fit of chuckling, as this Loki reaches up to fluff the back of his twin's hair, petting and mussing in equal measures. "See, I can be taught!"

"I knew it!" It was easy to see how much this trickster craved attention with how willing he was to lean into the hand in his hair, gaze slitting slightly almost like a content cat.

What are they doing? This version of Loki is also like a cat where contact is concerned. If it's not his idea, he will puff up and hiss and swat. If it is his idea, he will be in your lap purring until your legs go numb.

He's not sure whether this was his idea or not, initially, but he wants it now. He turns a little to encourage his counterpart to use him as a pillow, and continues petting his hair.

"How would I acclimate to pop culture without you here? I'd have to rely on the internet, and that's frightening."

They're cuddling which this Loki is entirely happy with. And he's not going to argue the shifting, more than willing to tuck in against his chest and bask in the warmth of the fingers working through his hair.

"Keep safesearch on when you search on Google at first. Otherwise you may accidentally have a bad time."

"Safesearch doesn't sound like any fun at all," he says, and drags the end of his cape over the both of them so they're cocooned in it from the shoulders down.

"You know, it's absurd how much I like you, given how much I loathe myself." He would never say that if he wasn't drunk.

"Like I said, it's only at first. You'll know when you're ready to take it off." It's moments like this that he really regrets not having a cloak, given how nice a warm little cocoon one can make from them. But his twin seemed to have the right idea and he let out a pleased little hum, snugging in happily.

"Well good thing I like you enough for two of us then, hm?" Loki knows that feeling all too well, though with how he was wound up in his twin's cloak he can only press a kiss to his chin instead of his cheek or forehead.

"Like training wheels?" He chuckles softly. "I'll keep it in mind."

Loki often prefers a longcoat to an actual cloak. It's a little more practical for motion, but it just doesn't have quite the same dramatic flair, does it? And it also can't be used so neatly as a blanket.

"Do you, now?" He takes a deep breath, sighing at the kiss. "If oblivion does not work out for you, back home, keep me in mind, then. I'd take you back."

It's not that simple; they both know that. But it's worth saying, even if it can't possibly happen.

Cricket is, shockingly, one of the least drunk people in the room. That doesn't mean he hasn't been drinking, but he has a) been drinking his own stuff and b) been drinking slowly. So he's flushed and giggly and more unsteady than usual, but he's pretty cognizant of what's going on around him.

And what's going on around him includes a pair of strong arms coming up around his waist as Loki snuggles up.

He thinks his heart may have stopped beating for a second there, but he only takes a breath, stretches out longer, and turns on his side so he's facing him.

"You a'ight, Loki? Could get you some water if you want."

"Cricket!" Loki's voice came out as a pleased sort of croon as he kept his arms around his companion, a silly looking grin scrawling across his face.

"I'm good! Comfy now." Now that he has Cricket warm and snuggly in his grasp, one leg hooking across his to help tangle them in closer. "Got you here. All mine~"

Whoa. Whoa. Cricket's eyes get huge; this is a new and different experience. He sort of melts into the embrace like the idea of not taking part doesn't even occur to him, but he also looks like he has no idea what just happened.

"A-all yours, huh?" He blushes, clears his throat, and tilts his head into Loki's shoulder tentatively. "You warm enough?"

Being solicitous is the only way he can think to deal with this situation. Tentatively, though, he puts his arm around Loki's waist in return.

It's good he didn't pull away- Loki is in a very good mood right now but also incredibly sensitive to being shunned. But Cricket is snuggling in, which just earns a beaming smile from him, especially with Cricket's head against his shoulder.

"I am! You're just right to snuggle." For a variety of reasons he won't be going into. Not when he likely will be dead tomorrow. It would be cruel to do to Cricket. Let him think that Loki is just an affectionate drunk.

"Shoot, no one ever told me that before," he's grinning. It's audible in his voice.

It's a good thing he has been drinking a bit, actually. If not, his heartbeat would be in overdrive right about now.

"Guess there are a lot worse things I could be than a good pillow," he adds softly. "You're gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning, y'know. I'll make you some tea. Wild thyme. Helps."

"You are the best pillow!" Loki agreed cheerfully, fingers stroking his hair idly. "A god said so, so you know it's true."

The offer of tea in the morning just had a soft smile on his face, forehead resting against Cricket with a pleased hum. "That sounds great."

"'Cause you're the god of true things," he says, before he can think better of it. There's a grin in his voice, but once the words are out of his mouth he blushes, because oops, that might have been a little too sassy.

"I mean...um. Thank you." He can't help but tilt his head into the stroking, anyway.

"You...god...y'know what, I don't even know. Just hold onto me whenever you want, a'ight? This is."

His arms squeeze him a little closer, and he doesn't care if Loki's just an affectionate drunk. He'll take what he can get.

"Well at least someone gets it!" Loki slurs in a pleased sort of tone. And he can't help but be utterly charmed by just how sweet Cricket is being, along with the blush he's spotting.

He responds positively to the permission, unable to help the color creeping along his own cheeks as he's cinched in closer, and on a complete whim? That'll be a little kiss laid on Cricket's mouth assuming he doesn't wiggle and make Loki miss the mark.

He's had puppy piles with Jack and other friends back home. Sprawling all over each other to keep out the cold when they were camping. That's not new, but it was always completely platonic.

He's also kissed before (in point of fact, he's not even a virgin, but he's certainly no Casanova, either). What he hasn't done before is been kissed by a man while in a cuddle pile, with both of them tipsy.

And it's probably a kiss from the liquor as much as anything else, he tells himself, but fuck it, it's nice and it comes from the person in the room he'd most wanted to be kissed by, and returning it (gently, shyly, awkwardly) won't hurt anyone.

"Yeah," he murmurs and tucks his forehead against the other man's. "That's allowed, too." His hands are trembling.

Not as much from the alcohol as Loki is allowing his companion to think. And the return of the kiss, all shy and sweet just has his heart pitter-pattering in his chest. He would carry that with him tomorrow. Something kind and affectionate to bolster his nerve in the chill of the void.

"I am very glad to hear it." Loki replied in a quiet, fond tone of his own, all but melting for the attention.

Cricket makes a soft, incoherent sound, a deep breath, and kind of nuzzles into him a little.

"You're like a comet," he murmurs, speech a little slurred from the liquor and the kissing. "Bright and quick...an' you fill up the sky."

That's actually not what comets do, Cricket. But he means it in the most complimentary way possible. "I'm just...glad to see you."

"You are," Loki hummed, pressing another kiss to Cricket's cheek with a grin. "Absolutely the sweetest."

And really the trickster was too drunk to criticize anyone's metaphors, instead just inordinately pleased at the compliment he could tell was there.

"I'm glad to see you too."

Cricket makes another gasping sigh. This is a lot of attention by his standards. He's not going to object, though, and after a moment's consideration, he returns the kissing, a few affectionate, gentle pecks to Loki's cheek.

He is bright red at this point.

"Got no clue what I'm doing," he says in response to the compliment, but the trembling is easing off now. Whatever this is, it's okay. Not about to go off the rails or anything. Just a quiet moment and a few kisses.

"Guess everyone's drunk off their asses anyway so that don't matter." He grins, suddenly lighthearted, and squeezes Loki closer. Now who's the pillow?

"You say that," Loki just holds still for those following kisses, lips curling on a pleased smile. "But you're doing just fine in my opinion."

Oh no, was Loki playing pillow? Good thing he absolutely was okay with this, letting out a delighted little hum as he wound his arms securely around Cricket, nuzzling his hair.

"Harley said I should tell you I like you," he says settling in and closing his eyes. "But I don't think I coulda gotten the words out if you hadn't started it."

This is all a little crazy. He's still not sure what a god sees in a dead moonshiner, but maybe what he sees is kindness. Cricket definitely puts forth an effort there. "Damn, you're strong."

One of his hands is sort of free, around Loki's waist, and he takes this opportunity to just stroke little circle shapes on his side. He's warm. And secure. And it's really, really nice.

"That so?" Loki's voice was soft, some emotion threading in there other than the playful teasing of before, feeling the color flooding his face. "Well... I'm glad that I did then."

As scared as he was of what was coming, it felt so good to know that someone cared for him like that.

It's so easy to relax into the feel of the arms arund him, the soft idle little touch against his side, keeping his face for now nestled against Cricket's hair as he enjoys the moment.

Cricket is blissfully unaware of the darker undercurrent to tonight's festivities. All he knows is that everyone's drunk, and he's cuddled up against his crush, who kissed him without pity or prompting, and it's all a little surreal, and he loves it.

He gives a giddy little laugh and squeezes Loki in a hug, a little closer. "It ain't done where I come from, is all. This."

"But it should be." Because it's nice, and it's not hurting anyone, and he can tell from Loki's voice he's getting something reassuring from it, too.

Harley is not going to be getting blackmail photos (honestly, these pictures are for her own private files). Instead she is going to be making sure that there are extra pillows and blankets for anyone in the drunken cuddle pile.

Harley has a standing invitation to be the filling in a Loki-snuggle sandwich, as well. Or one of the slices of bread. Completely her call.

In any case, this particular Loki gives her a beatific smile from his place on the floor. "Thank you. This was important."

"Anytime. Anywhere. Any way I can help." She kneels down, so she can lean over and place a kiss on his forehead. Right now, she just wants to make sure he is comfortable. That they are both comfortable.

He reaches up to run his fingers through her hair, very gentle. "I don't always do things right, but I think this was right."

Sinking back a little, he beeps her nose lightly and smiles. "You're lovely."

"It is a nice feeling isn't it... to do something right, when you usually do everything wrong." Harley perches on her elbows, looking down at him.

"You are drunk Mister. I like it." She grins. Giving him an upside-down kiss.

"Exactly," he says. "You? You get it. That's why I'm here. I have safe-houses all around but they don't have you in them. They're boring. You're not boring."

Okay, he's rambling now. Thank you for shutting him up, Harley. Upside-down kissing is a novel sensation, and he closes his eyes and relaxes into it.

Getting drunk takes a lot of effort for him. He may as well enjoy it now that he's here. And so should she.

"And that is why I like coming back here... to see you." She too has safe-houses all around. But she likes coming 'home' to a full house. To see Cricket. And Alec. And Loki. Especially Loki.

"You rest as much as you need. Nothing ain't going to bother you today. Your Valkyrie will make sure of that."

Oh, that's right! He keeps forgetting she has safe houses in her own world, as well. They really are absolutely even in this. It's a remarkable balance, each independent but happy to join up and share affection in this place between worlds.

If he were slightly less drunk he'd come up with something poetic about that. If he were slightly more drunk, he would giggle like a loon and drag her into more kissing. He's at a nice even buzz, though, and inclined to just let her take over for the moment. She's good at it.

"My Valkyrie," he repeats with a cheerful hum. "Who is never boring. I feel very fortunate."

She lifts his head a little, and moves until his head is placed on her lap. And strokes her hands through his hair, humming softly to herself.

"Me too."

Oh, why don't they do this more often? His eyes fall shut at once; peaceful for the moment, contented as a cat. She is never boring, but she is gentle when she wants to be, and more indulgent with him than he deserves.

"I have not been this drunk in at least a century," he tells her, grinning and tilting his head into her petting. "No regrets."

Haha. At least not until morning.

"I am glad you let yourself get drunk." Harley will never know that feeling, of being drunk. But she doesn't need to be drunk to show affections anyway.

"And that you held this little shing-ding."

He could probably duplicate the sensation for her with magic, but would she want that? He reaches up and puts one of his hands over hers, stroking with his thumb.

"If I ever die, I hope you'll do the same. But then, I'm not going to die, so nevermind."

Oh, he's pretty sure he's going to die, and probably sooner than he wants to, but there's no reason to bring it up now. He's going to be depressed later; he can save worry for later, too.

She smiles at him, and leans into his touch.

"I would hold the grandest shing-ding ever for you. Invite all the best showgirls to it. And just make it a grand party."

Don't try to fool her Loki. She knows that statement about never going to die is a lie. But she will also let him have it.

"Showgirls, too? You're too kind to me, dearest." He laughs softly, eyes closing.

"Only tell my stories. That's the best gift you can give me." He holds her hand to his lips and kisses it gently, then resettles. "Are you comfortable? I'm likely to fall asleep again like this."

"I can do that." She runs her fingers through his hair. And smiles as he resettles in her lap.

"I am comfortable. Rest well, Princess." She whispers to him.

When Thor finally finds Loki, it's with deliberate purpose, trading one Loki for another. The merriment has left its mark on Thor, his cheeks flushed pink from spirits, his hair somehow managing to be in disarray despite how shortly shorn it is.

He never did manage to find his legs, not properly, but he's wormed his way into arm's reach of the trickster and... success! He hasn't been hugged like this since... well, he can't remember, but that's more the alcohol fogging up his brain than it being in a distant past. But either way, the strength of his return hug might be too much for a mortal, clinging to Loki like he doesn't want to let go.

From another universe or no, Thor was recognizable to the trickster, even in his drunken state. So when he found his arms latching around a familiar form, and felt those arms around him in turn all but squeezing the air from him, he let out a pleased little noise, green eyes peeking open to turn a small crooked smile towards his otherdimensional brother.

Thor can't help but smile back at him, the vision in his eye a little blurry as he looks back at Loki as if he's memorizing what he looks like, every line in that sleepily contented face. And maybe he is.

Looks like the secret's finally out.

He leans his forehead against Loki's, holding him tightly, and says, "This has been a night to remember."

He sees that look. And drunk or no, he knows what that kind of look means. Has seen it too often, has worn it too often to be able to claim otherwise.

"Who told?" He could guess. Most were ignorant of what was being celebrated, but a couple who were there knew, or could guess. And maybe it was kinder in a way to let Thor in on it too. Some manner of closure, for all Loki was praying that he'd manage to cheat fate. Not that he was mad, not now.

Part of Thor is glad that no one told him sooner. It would have cast a pall over the whole gathering for him; how could he have fun knowing that Loki is preparing to meet his fate? On the other hand, the guilt at being grateful for his ignorance gnaws at him, that he'd been letting Loki bear this burden alone. Or, well. Close to it.

Either way, he knows now. Not too late that he can't say goodbye, not too late that he can't make sure the trickster knows that he's loved, at least by this Thor. That he'll be missed, if the battle goes ill. Still unwilling to believe that there's no other outcome, but even a trickster's luck can't last forever.

"He's tall, dark, and stabby," Thor mutters in reply, likely confirming the prime suspect.

It was good in Loki's mind, that Thor hadn't known before. He wanted to have fun if this was to be his last night, to remember his friends and multidimensional family smiling instead of sad.

"I'm not entirely surprised." Loki might do the same in his twin's shoes. Not to be cruel but because he thought that it might help, once everything had wound down and things were quiet. A crooked smile creeping across his face as he just settled, keeping his grasp on Thor.

"There's always a chance I'll pull off a hat trick." Not that he believed it this time, more just trying to keep the tone from going too morose too quickly. There'd be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

"I hope you will. You're a clever man, Loki. Always have been. If there is another way, you will find it." Thor has no idea what kind of odds he'll be facing, his faith in Loki's nature as strong as it ever was. If anyone can cheat death, it's a trickster. And if Loki can't, no one can.

Thor holds him a little tighter, the sort of hug his own brother has spurned for years now. He's typically been a cheerful drunk, whenever he's managed to get that deep in his cups, but this time it manifests as stubborn clinginess. "The party was good, right?" If Loki got his fun out of it, it was all worth it, as far as Thor's concerned.

That simple stubborn faith in him hits just the right way to have the trickster's gaze blurring a bit, Loki blinking a bit as he ducked his head, masking the moment with a low chuckle.

And he certainly wasn't spurning the hug, in fact just sinking more securely into it, letting his forehead rest against Thor's shoulder as his fingers curled in fabric. Just as clingy in his own right it seemed.

"It was great. Clearly my twin has a future as an event planner."

It's almost like they're boys again, staying up in the late hours of the night when they should be sleeping. Thor's forgotten now what sorts of things they'd talk about back then, only that he'd looked forward to talking until they both fell asleep. He'd never felt safer.

He can only hope that it's a memory this Loki shares, and that it brings him comfort.

"Spontaneous mischief has its benefits after all."

Never mind that heap of robes and hair over there, blissfully snoring. If anyone tried to snuggle him, it's a toss-up as to whether he'd even notice, he's so dead to the world.

That doesn't mean one shouldn't try, though. Y'know. For science.

Loki just met this man tonight, and he is not prone to just snuggling with strangers (usually). The faery liquor is talking, though, so after spending a good fifteen or twenty minutes just watching the man snore, he moves a few inches closer, just squirming across the floor like the snake whose shape he used to take to freak Thor out.

Closer. He waits a moment to see if he'll wake. Closer again. His progress across the small space of floor continues until he's right next to Azwel, and then he reaches out ever so gently...

And starts putting little braids in his hair.

It NEEDED to be done, okay?

Azwel doesn't move. The closer Loki gets, the more he soundly fails to move or react or even notice.

He has a lot of hair to braid. It's thick and glossy and long. The kind of hair that's really shameful unstyled, when you think about it.

This light touch on his hair is kind of nice and elicits a quiet sigh. After a few more moments of this, his eyes flicker open. He yawns, smiles a vague smile, and his eyes fall shut again. Still a bit drunk, clearly.

Oop! He's been spotted! He freezes for a moment, green eyes blinking mildly at Azwel. When no protest is forthcoming, he smirks to himself and goes back to his work. It's not quite elf-locks, but he's hardly an expert braider, either.

The smooth texture of the hair is helpful, though. It actually looks pretty decent by the time he's done three little braids the thickness of a pencil. He doesn't have anything to tie off the ends with, though.

Oh, there's probably some string somewhere. Or ribbon. Or rubber bands. Or he could just tie the end in a wee knot.

Were he conscious, Azwel would probably offer something. Alas, he is not.

It takes some doing, but Loki eventually manages to get about half of Azwel's hair into delicate braids, which he then starts to knot together into bigger braids, before deciding he's had enough of this game and rolling back over to sleep.

Perhaps another time he'll do the rest.

Kinner's out cold, both because of alcohol and what's at least partly a food coma. He's not one for cuddling, so he's slumped against the wall, snoring. He probably won't wake up for the rest of the night.

Well, at least he had a good time.

Edited 2018-11-16 18:32 (UTC)

Cricket doesn't want to invade Kinner's personal space, knowing what he knows about what he's been through, so he's not going to just come over and fall into his lap or anything. But he does stagger to his own room, collecting the two pillows off his bed, and tucks one behind Kinner's back unsteadily, possibly waking him in the process.

"Gonna wake up with a crick in th' neck like that," he mumbles with a drowsy smirk.

One of Kinner's eyes flickers open as he registers Cricket in front of him. The cook manages a weak smile as he shuffles into a more comfortable position. Cricket looks pretty tired, too. "Thanks, Cricket. That was an exciting party, wasn't it?" He'd enjoyed himself, for the most part, though maybe he shouldn't have drunk so much moonshine. "Folks liked my popcorn shrimp - I 'pprove of that. Put a lot of - hic - hard work into 'em."

Kinner's pretty tired, but he's glad to see Cricket with him.

Cricket flops onto the floor beside him, his own pillow in front of him so he can lie with his chest and chin on it. He's taken off his leg braces just in case someone in the pile kicks out. Better not to let anyone get hurt on the metal.

"Ain't had nothin' you made yet that wasn't worth eating, Kinner," he says, and yawns. "You're good at what you do. Hope y'r proud of that."

"Well," Kinner says, "I put my all into it. I've learned a lotta things I wouldn't have learned about without comin' to the Nexus. Like how to make tater tots." He's going to have to tell Venom about that sometime, but the alien blob would never leave him alone.

He yawns, too, making sure there's space for Cricket. "That there was some good eats. Good drinkin', too." He pats his stomach. "Gotta say, those burgers were somethin'." Alastor may make fun of him, but he considers it a small bit of indirect revenge.

"Tater tots?" He repeats and gives a tipsy little giggle. "The hell are tater tots?"

Hey, if they were new in 1938, Cricket can't possibly have heard of them. He died seven years before that. "Tell you somethin' though, Kinner. Us dead folks oughtta stick together."

"They're made of potatoes. There's someone here who really likes them, and I want to keep him happy." Kinner wonders if Cricket's met Venom. The toothy slime ball seems to have gotten around.

Sticking together sounds like a good idea. Kinner thinks, then nods.

"Yeah. You're right. Dead guys like us oughta stick together."

"Ohhh. Almost anything with fried potatoes," he says sagely. "They're fried, right?"

No one's told him about cholesterol, and he's nineteen anyway.

He hasn't met Venom yet, actually! It might be best that he doesn't for a bit, because he'll be simultaneously unsettled by him and feel like he has to tell him off for picking on Kinner. That ought to be interesting.

"Dead man's club," he murmurs with a snort. "Palmer ain't dead, but he can be honorary, right?"

"Deep-fried and grated. If I wasn't dead, I'd have to surprise my old campmates with some of these."

Kinner's still uneasy about Venom, but he's pretty sure the symbiote won't eat him. Still, he doesn't especially like the teasing. Still, Venom at least likes his fish and oysters, and has learned to pay for them.

Anyway, Kinner made a nice rabbit stew out of the half-a-rabbit Venom gave him. As long as he didn't think about where it came from.

"Hope Pamer's crew turn out all right. It's weird how some of 'em have the same names as my team, or close. Norris. Blair. Doc Copper."

"Next time you make 'em, show me how? Bet Harley would eat those." He's always on the lookout for vegetarian things he can make that both he and Harley will enjoy. Bonus if Loki will eat them, too, although Cricket tends to feel like a god can handle getting his own dinner.

"I hope so too. Wish I could help more. Crazy monsters...I ain't much good in a fight, even with just humans."

"Don't mind if I do."

Kinner can't help but enjoy showing off the new recipes he learned in the Grand Library. He isn't much of a reader under usual circumstances, but cookbooks are an exception for him. Learning new recipes was a neccessary skill. If he's dead, he may as well become a better cook.

"I'm actually a decent fighter, and threw a few punches in my day. It's just that ain't any good with monsters from outer space. But if Palmer decides to go ahead with his plan to fight back, I'm gonna help him."

Edited 2018-11-21 08:08 (UTC)

"I'm comin', too, then." Not an ounce of hesitation in this kid. "Only we best have a real good plan, 'cause I reckon no one wants us to bring it back to the Nexus on accident."

He gives him a reassuring grin, then, bumping shoulders. "I'll take your word for it and not go in trying to punch anything."

"You're brave." Kinner nods, flashing Cricket a grin back. "That flamethrower of yours sounded like a good idea. You wanna avoid touching the Thing if you can help it, 'cause that's when it can choose to infect you."

He shrugs as best he can hunched against the wall. "I just got a personal score to settle with that monster."

Edited 2018-11-24 09:40 (UTC)

He is braver when he's drunk, in all fairness, but Cricket seems to be more than a little delighted by the praise. "You two are some of my best friends, is all. Wanna make sure you come back okay."

"Maybe some kinda armor would help. Something it can't get through easily." They can talk it over when they're sober again.

"But we don't have to be in no big hurry. Time moves different in the Nexus. We can plan and research."

"Planning's a good idea. Maybe Palmer's critter is like mine but not quite the same - my creature's blue, for example, while his is...I dunno how to put it, if anything it sounded even more disgusting."

Kinner's Thing having a true form made it feel more like a living creature, if a horrible one, while the Thing in the Outpost 31 timeline seemed almost more like a disease than anything else.

"Fire kills it. We know that much." Kinner hiccups, too tipsy to draw battle plans. "But you're right, we should talk about this later, when our - hic - heads are clear."

Thor has not been this drunk in... how long has it been? A long time, but to dredge up the appropriate memory requires far more brainpower than he's currently willing to devote to the task. He doesn't even know most of what he drank, and he might curse himself for the foolishness of accepting mystery drinks from not one but two Lokis if not for the fact that they, too, are both making intense efforts to sleep off the same concoctions somewhere in this pile of people.

Norns, what a night. There's a slightly dopey grin on his face and he chuckles at nothing in particular, leaning into whatever warm body is nearest.

There is some circulation in the cuddle pile, so he may find himself amidst various different friends over the course of the nap, but at the moment, he's right up against Loki's back, on one side. The Trickster makes a small sleepy grunt and tries to turn to look at him, but he's well and truly tangled up in his own damn cloak. Someone on his other side is lying across it and he can't move so much without waking people or tearing the fabric.

Still, he manages to give Thor a hazy look through his lashes, and the curtain of hair that's gotten mussed and is falling half over his face.

"Oh, it's you," he says. "Good."

He gives a long, lazy yawn and lets his head drop back to where it was pillowed on his arm. Eyes closed, he mutters, "It's good you were here. He needed that."

Edited (typo) 2018-11-17 17:00 (UTC)

Of course Loki would be at his side. It's where he's supposed to be, and Thor's missed him there. The sons of Odin, together again, sleeping off yet another night of questionable decisions. Just like old times.

Thor drapes an arm over Loki, clumsily patting for his arm, before the words actually soak in and he blinks blearily at his brother. He? The gears turn until they grind their way to a conclusion. "You mean Loki?" Not this one, the other one. Obviously.

Careful, Thor. If you start thinking things like that, sooner or later you'll say them, and if you say them Loki will take you up on them. He's content with the equilibrium they've reached. The brotherly banter, the way they're both holding one another at arm's length, able to laugh together but not quite ready to trust.

It's all right. Maybe for the best. He is not built to be trustworthy, and Thor deserves someone trustworthy at his side. Still, the idea of 'like old times' is compelling. Some part of him would love to be Thor's little brother again. But even if it's too late for that, they've got a quiet moment here, and when Thor gives him that lazy half-hug, Loki's eyes blink open in pleasant surprise.

Oh. Well. All right, then.

It's a shame to have to vocalize bad news under these peaceable circumstances. "Yes," he says. "Him. He did not wish to say, but this is meant to be an early wake. He has something to face at home and does not expect to come back from it."

"And he's been estranged from his Thor. Your kindness means much to him, I think."

Thor's hope springs eternal, and he's feeling even more nostalgic than usual, aided by truly excessive amounts of alcohol. The warm glow is cut down a bit, though, once he understands what Loki is saying to him.

The other Loki has told him a little of his family conflict, of Mother's betrayal and the other Thor's violent distrust. It saddens him that even in another universe, the house of Odin would find themselves at odds with each other. Why can't things just be as they were, when no one was trying to kill anyone, and Loki was a contented prince of Asgard? (Whether Loki ever actually was such, Thor refuses to contemplate. He must have been at some point, right?)

Maybe it's a good thing he hadn't known before, what this party was meant to be. Had he known, would he have been able to enjoy the gathering quite so much, with that shadow hanging over their heads?

"He's suffered much." So has this Loki, but they don't speak of that, not in so many words. Nor is this about them, this time. Especially not now that Thor knows the true purpose of this gathering. "This was your idea?"

Was he contended? Loki isn't sure. These things are relative, perhaps. Satisfaction is not in his nature, or so he claims, so he may be doomed to a certain restlessness, some small fierce jealousies, but in another time and place these might have been surmountable problems. He loved his family, trusted them once. Loved Asgard once, lost that love, and found it again.

He counts himself somewhat luckier than the other Loki, in any case.

He leans back into Thor's touch a little, not quite the snuggly puppy, but drawing some kind of reassurance from the closeness. "He has. And blames himself for it. Whether that is just or no, I cannot say, although I tend to think...probably not. Not completely."

He nods groggily and gives Thor another languid smile, this own with a touch of sadness to it. "He feared none would mourn him. Now, many will, and remember this night."

Snuggly puppy or not, Thor leans into him right back, not sure if he's giving or taking comfort, and maybe it's both. He's lost his own brother too many times already, and he doesn't care that this Loki is not technically his, nor the other trickster who believes his life is measured in mere days, at most.

Did you mourn, his brother had asked him once, sneering as though he expected that no one would have. As though he thought Thor would cast aside centuries of brotherhood in an instant without a second thought.

He'd made his answer clear then, even if Loki hadn't listened at the time.

Will he mourn this other Loki, even knowing him so little? Of course. And this one knows that, too. This time, he may even have a great deal more company in it, for a Loki who deserves to be remembered well.

It's no small thing, but it doesn't feel like enough. It's never enough. "There's nothing more we can do to help him?" he asks, hoping against hope that Loki will have thought of something, some clever trick to help his twin avoid this fate altogether. Knowing all the same that even Loki's luck will eventually run dry.

"He is more tied to his nature than you or I," Loki says softly. "A true mythoform, not the hybrid of mortal and deity we seem to be."

Granted, he's still picking apart that mystery and may yet find himself and Thor to be as bound to legend as their alternates. For the moment, though, there seems to be a difference. "That which he faces is not only a physical death, but a loss of self. A psychic death. He will become something new, or cease to exist utterly."

He puts one of his hands over Thor's arm that's around him, fighting through the edge of his own cloak to do so. Yep. Still feels like a tree trunk.

"And the something new, he fears, is that evil future self he has fought so hard to escape from becoming. I do not think he will take that option. I think he would prefer to accept a noble oblivion. I would. Out of spite, if nothing else."

"But he is Loki. There is always a chance he will find a third choice." His voice is soft. "I hope he will. But I can see none. I'm not god enough for that yet."

Yet? Hmm.

If Thor wasn't quite so hungover, he might have more questions. More protests. Giving voice to how unjust this is, after everything that Loki has been through, that he should end like this. It's not fair. When has it ever been?

And yet, how very like Loki to spend his assumed final day in merriment, as if he had not a care in the world, knowing full well he's going to the wolves alone after.

Thor's vision blurs, and it might not be the alcohol to blame. "I'll miss him."

Loki closes his eyes, as if to mask whatever might be going on behind them. His hand grips tighter at Thor's forearm, squeezing, then releasing.

He will say nothing, of course, but he can't lie to himself; he does feel a pang of jealousy, and a deep, yawning loneliness. He can't blame Thor, though. The other Loki is personable and charming and capable of such warmth...he has no idea how likable, how lovable, he really is.

History probably makes a difference. There may be things he has done in his own world that would be harder to look past, had they lived through them, but right now, with what they do know, it's natural both he and Thor should grow attached quickly, and regret the loss bitterly.

He draws in a breath that's just a touch ragged around the edges, to match Thor's blurry vision. And he pats his arm. "Then tell him so. Go. Give him that strength to fight with."

Edited (typo) 2018-11-20 14:12 (UTC)

If this Loki thinks that Thor would not miss him too, he's gravely mistaken. But, of course, he has no talent for mind magic, and knows not where his brother's thoughts have gone, assuming them to be fear for his double, sadness and grief at the loss he seems to think is inevitable.

Thor knows what it's like to lose family and not get to say his goodbyes. He'd hastened to say them on Svartelfheim, and no matter how Loki mocked his words with theater after, he doesn't regret saying any of it. He would have Loki - any Loki - know that he is loved, before the end. Whether he believes it or not.

He clumsily pats at Loki's arm in thanks, and stumbles his way out of the pile of slumbering revelers in search of the guest of honor.

Was it mockery, or merely a reminder? They should talk about that more deeply some time, when they're not so drunk. Loki has a tendency to make light of the things that cut him the most deeply, with only a few exceptions. Maybe, with Thor himself absent by necessity, he just wanted that reminder for himself, to pick at old wounds at the same time as they attempted to heal.

Loki is complex and contrary and his own worst enemy.

But he will not be his alternate's worst enemy; on that he is already decided, and he looks up as Thor leaves to find him, with a small, soft smile of approval. He has time for reconciliation. The other Loki may not.

The Indoraptor slouches toward the center of the room shakes himself, and collapses with a heavy thud. A twenty-four-foot dinosaur will make a lot of noise when he falls, especially as he shifts to get himself in a more comfortable position. He gives a quiet roar with his frustration, trying to fit himself in a way that doesn't hurt himself or break something.

So this is what being drunk feels like.

Indoraptor had better be prepared to be used as a pillow, because that is exactly what's happening.

"Relax, my friend," Thor says, drunkenly patting the big ol' dinosaur on the flank before following it with his head. "You're in good company."

Cricket swears to god the floor shakes when Indoraptor flops onto it. How much does a dinosaur weight? A LOT.

In retrospect, getting a twenty-four-foot killing machine drunk was probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, but since everyone's just relaxing and drowsy now, it seems not to have ended in disaster.

Cricket makes yet another trip to his bedroom and comes back out with his duvet, folded in quarters. He sets it down by the dinosaur's head with a sigh. "Here. Ain't quite a pillow but it'll soften up the ground some. Try not to tear it?"

Those are some wicked claws. But once the dinosaur is settled, he can have a small human heating pad snuggled up to his back.

The sound of a twenty-four-foot dinosaur hitting the floor is enough to wake even Azwel, if only for a moment. He yawns, stirs vaguely, and settles his head on the pebbly pillow that Indoraptor's tail has clearly become, now, as it was right there.

Hoboy, he'll have an interesting story if he remembers this.

It is around the time that Adia and Caspar are finally leaving the party, arms around one another's waists. Caspar is whispering something in Adia's ear that is making her giggle. Looks like they are headed home for a private cuddle party of two.

At least until they catch sight of an Indoraptor trying to make himself comfortable on the floor.

"Is that a drunk dinosaur, or did I have too much moonshine?" Caspar asks Adia.

"No, he's drunk..." Adia walks over to her friend and gently pats his head to get his attention. "Hi, friend.. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

Edited 2018-11-18 02:11 (UTC)

There is a random woman staring at the Indoraptor with a small smile. Has she been here all night, or did she just now arrive? No one else has seen her.

She might look, or even feel, familiar. Who else has stood so still and calm in his presence? How drunk is the Indoraptor right now? He is a very smart dinosaur, but even if he does make the connection, can he really trust himself in this inebriated state?

When he blinks, she is gone. Where did she go? Once the Indoraptor is asleep, she will return, arms full with the biggest blanket she could find. A somewhat comical sight as she struggles to carefully and gently maneuver it around him, aware that startling awake a PTSD-addled dinosaur could end badly.

When he wakes, whenever that is, the Indoraptor will find himself nested in a soft and cozy quilt. He may not need it, cold-blooded murder lizard that he is, but "Anna" meant the gesture as more symbolic than anything else. She is a friend.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

The Indoraptor was drawn by the scent of food. Not meat-food, but where he smells food there's people. So the dinosaur comes to the place, sure that he'll draw attention to himself but not caring. Both Lokis are his friends, and the powerful black dinosaur wants to look after his friends more than he wants to eat.

Hello. He scribbles on his whiteboard. Can dinosaurs drink?

He is greeted by a cheerful trill from Loki, who is a little too drunk to speak proper velociraptor, but remembers the noises, at least.

"Can they? Absolutely," he says in English, then. "Should they? I honestly could not say, but trying is the best way to find out, I imagine. Go slow."

What on earth will they do with a drunk dinosaur? Well, they'll cross that bridge if/when they come to it.

Hello, Loki! The dinosaur is happy to use his own language in conversation. How are you?

The Indoraptor recognizes the trill well enough and gives a trill in return.

Where can I find a beer? At least that's what he thinks they're called. He's never encountered alcohol before...

That works! Indoraptor can speak his own language, Loki will default to English, and they will meet in the middle that way.

"Beer? Are you sure that's what you want? What flavors do you like? Do you ever eat fruit for the taste?"

Loki is going to play sommelier here. You can have your beer, friend, but he'll provide other options, too.

"That's kinda how I looked at it. But we've lost a lot, on our Earth. I guess it's hard to parse through the fragments for what's real and what isn't, when you haven't seen it for yourself. People leave behind stories and records of all kinds of things that aren't real. Animals, people- continents, even."

Okay, poking isn't helpful, but she does think it's a cool trick. Useful, she'd say. These small moments of wonder are part of what makes the Nexus so dear to her. Plus, people here have some fun ideas. "Tiny little bugs puffing fire? That'd be cute."

"At my size, I don't think I agree," Ghost is obliged to point out, but she just chuckles.

"The Venusian kind are much bigger." She holds her hands up to demonstrate, about half a foot apart. "Eight legs - they're not real insects, of course. Guess you'd call it convergent evolution. No fire-breathing either. I'm not sure even real dragons breathe fire, come to think of it."

If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks...

Milkshakes

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