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[ Loki's gaze lingers on Mordred with a sharp edge of understanding, reading him and finding he can tolerate him if not befriend this one entirely; he isn't sure, Mordred is neither a clean-cut idiot or a coward. If he turns out to be an enemy then at least Loki won't be bored.

His smile lengthens, something shifting in his eyes when he blinks and the keenness softens too. He chins a hand. ]

So what have you been doing, Mordred, wandering around every god's door with your lashes batting?

[ If Loki's heart wasn't still sore that tactic may have been snapped up and returned in short order, yet he remains polite without any overtures. ]

[Mordred is very particular about his enemies. He's not above harassing local deities a bit if it means gaining something important, but after that he'll quickly be on his way. No reason to overstay one's welcome, after all. He comes looking for neither friendship nor trouble. Just something new.]

That depends -- how many more of you are there?

I'd tell you but they happen to be my siblings and I'm not sure I like the idea of you trying the same thing on them. Unlike me, they may hurt you.

[ Especially Angela ... although, on second thought, Loki would pay to see that. ]

I guess I'll just keep my eyelashes to myself then.

[Flirting with Mordred rarely resolves the way people expect it to, anyway, and gods have less sense of humor about that kind of thing.]

[ That response is what prompts Loki to tell him, the easily swayed disinterest is better than if Mordred had been desperately nosy. ]

Thor and Angela.

[He smiles, not anticipating the acquiescence and therefore pleasantly surprised to get it. An eyebrow lifts.]

Thor I recognize, but... I've never encountered a Norse goddess named Angela. She's your sister?

She is. Angela was lost to us for a time but her story is her own, she can decide for herself whether she wants to tell you. If she doesn't throw you over the perimeter wall, that is. [ Angela wouldn't, more than likely, but you never know.

Spreading his hands, one holding onto his phone, he arches a brow right back and affects taking offence. ]

But I thought you came here to nose around for deets on me, I'm starting to get jealous.

[He is more than understanding about letting a person share their own story and will leave it at that; for now, he grins and leans back against the couch.]

Yes I did. And to fix you a drink, more specifically.

I like how you admit it.

[ Rolling to his feet he gestures for Mordred to follow him on the way to the bar. Loki waves at the barman, signalling they're going to be taking over a corner, and sits himself down on the customer's side. ]

[Mordred rises easily and follows along, circling his host to the sacred side of the bar. For a moment or two he runs a cataloging look over the contents of the bar, the ingredients at his disposal; already he's got a few ideas off the top of his head, but this is a new Loki he's dealing with.]

Would you like to make any requests, or should I surprise you? Because I should warn you that I might be influenced by the ghost of Lokis past.

Edited 2017-08-30 18:37 (UTC)

Make me something new.

[ He doesn't want cast-off ideas. ]

The green mile is in a bottle under the bar, if you want to get me drunk you'll have to add that.

[ Having been through a shitty break-up of his own making, or thereabouts, he isn't opposed to the idea. ]

[Insulting; as if he would just recycle some old offering and hope for the best. But he's working off air here, otherwise. Well then!

Mordred picks up the bottle from under the bar.

It's not about getting the god drunk per se, but in his experience that is usually what they want, at least the consideration; the Loki from his world likes bad whiskey, autumn-themed beer, and sickeningly sweet things; this one likes... bacon, breakfast food, and more than a touch of the modern world.

He chooses a few ingredients from Loki's collection. Whatever doesn't appear to be immediately on hand, he conjures in delicate wisps only to be sent back where they came from (they wouldn't be missed). Mordred is good with his hands, quick and deft and detail-oriented, and alchemy lends itself pretty well to bartending; with practiced ease he puts together something with the buttery burn of good whiskey, a maple sugar sweetness, a fiery habanero kick and the strength of the green mile behind it - garnished with a piece of candied habanero bacon, because he's still kind of a smartass.

With a little flourish, Mordred slides it across the counter to Loki. It's not really about trying to get it right on the first try with gods. As long as they don't hate it enough to take it personally, you can move on from there.]

[ The way Mordred mixes a simple drink speaks well to his abilities as a sorcerer, conjuring this and that but never straying too far from the ingredients on hand. It's cathartic to watch as Loki plays on his phone, his attention split but never off the man for long.

The addition of bacon makes him snort under his breath, smiling as he takes a sip. ]

It's good. Very good. [ With an absent wave of his hand, he puts Mordred's name on Nico's list. ] Consider yourself VIP-material. You can snoop around up there if you want, I'm going to finish my drink.

Much obliged.

[But he has an eyebrow raised, the pleasure of success slightly dampened by being sent off so easily. Not that he takes it personally or anything. It's just... odd.

He could get into a lot of trouble for pursuing this angle of curiosity, but that has rarely stopped him in the past, so. Mordred tilts his head slightly, prepared to be more thoroughly and/or effectively dismissed but wondering what will happen if he isn't.]

Sure you want to drink alone?

[ Glancing up from his phone, he shrugs. Inviting people to spend more time with him usually ends up as a pointless exercise; giving Mordred what he wants, a VIP pass, seems like the best course of action. Loki doesn't appear to have considered that Mordred would want to stick around and drink together. ]

I don't mind. Help yourself.

[It's less a question of wanting, and more a refusal to leave well enough alone; this is interesting enough that he'll take whatever risk it is to press.

He fixes himself his own drink first, a simple bourbon and honey; it's usually possible to gauge his mood by how much honey he puts into it. On bad days, you'd think he was half hummingbird. Today is a reasonable amount.]

That was rather painless. [It would be fair to say there is something suspicious in his tone.] Not that I'm not grateful, obviously, but -- well, as far as I vicariously know you, you don't seem like yourself.

[ Taking note of the drink Mordred chooses for himself, the echo of a smile curls in the corner of Loki's lips. ]

I'm not another Loki, I'm me. I can stop showing you my softer side, if you want.

[He lifts the hand not holding the tumbler in it.] That's true, you're not. And if I'm out of line, I apologize. [He doesn't really think he's wrong, though.]

You're just doing what everyone does, comparing one person to another without meaning to. It can't be helped. References are usually useful to go off ... without anyone but Gods of Chaos, that is.

[ Taking a long sip, he drains half his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. ]

You can call me Lokes to differentiate, if you want. Some do.

[ Only one, but he wants to tear down how special and significant that nickname became. ]

If you like. [He'd rather not (that is beyond familiar) but it's a harmless enough concession to make if necessary.

Loki's gentle admonishment prickles a little bit, on the inside; he had done it on purpose -- knowingly, at least -- because in his experience going in blind with gods is a good way to get killed or mutilated. But wanting to be known for yourself, as opposed to what everyone assumes you are, is a feeling he understands more than well enough.]

Let me try again. [He purses his lips and frowns a little.] Are you all right?

[Simple question, straight to the point. If Loki says yes, this is the way he always is, then Mordred will agreeably leave him alone.]

[ What a weird question to be asked. It doesn't crop up often and remains a novelty, earning an honest answer as his expression falls on his drink. ]

No, not really. [ Despite all his efforts, being a flashy host just isn't in him right now. All his heart wants to do is impress the one person who asked Loki not to touch him.

Shaking his head, he spares Mordred a glance. ]

I'm not the best company as of late, feel free to avail yourself of me.

Well-- [He shrugs dismissively, and because Loki was so unexpectedly honest, he shares a touch of uncharacteristic openness in turn.] You haven't tried to kill me yet, so I'd say you're better than average.

[He drinks a little, still watching Loki over the glass, and then pointedly adds,] It's not my business, of course. [Not his business, but notice he hasn't left yet.]

[ The comment about casual homicide prompts a laugh and he rubs his eyes, because it's so true that he can't not find the funny side; if he didn't, it would be incredibly depressing. He can't really miss Mordred sticking around and attributes it to the guy knowing nothing about him, not really. Or thinking him harmless by comparison to others. ]

It's just ... people.

[ To put it in the vaguest possible terms. ]

Ah. [He nods knowingly.] People.

[It usually is, isn't it? On the appropriate side of the bar, Mordred takes up the position of the bartender with an open ear, leaning against the counter with his own drink still clutched comfortably in one hand.]

What kind of people?

[ Idly, Loki wonders if he shouldn't give Mordred a job. He might make a killing from those impromptu barman skills. ]

... Men.

[ If one word could sum up all his grousing, that would be it. ]

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