riverview | text | un: medraut (pre-fire)

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. ]

[Eyebrows lift again, and then he smiles slightly.]

Maybe I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You're not coming onto me, it's fine. I'd trust you'd know if you were, anyway.

[ He has had some problems with mixed signals, lately. ]

It's nothing, at any rate. I'm fine.

[ Just moody and more self-involved than usual, but at least he can admit it. ]

[Mordred nods slowly, sipping again, still watching Loki.]

Well, you seem fine.

[Nothing about the way he says it will suggest that this is in fact the case.]

You're very nosy.

[ An observation as Loki polishes off his drink, eyeing Mordred over the rim. ]

Did you know Merlin and Arthur, all those rabble?

Sometimes.

[The question that follows nearly cracks the rim of the glass -- he wasn't expecting it. But Mordred just critically examines the remaining contents of his drink, and keeps his response politely neutral and very short.] Yes.

[ Huh. ]

You'd rather not talk about yourself? Pick a subject, I'm not fussy.

[ That is #ALIE but hes curious to see where Mordred takes the conversation when the attention is on him. ]

You've clearly heard the story already, I'd just as soon not bore you. [Considering he is Not His Best Self when the subject comes up, he tries to avoid it altogether.

Changing the subject, therefore, is an opportunity he jumps on directly.]

Chaos magic is... impossibly rare, where I come from. I don't get the chance to-- [study it, experience it, try to learn it] --witness it as often as I'd like. If you don't have any strong objections, I'd very much appreciate hearing some about yours.

[ Sensitive button to push in the future, noted. ]

I do what I want, I don't know how else to put it. Existence bends around a user of chaos magic, they never break it.

[#SOJEALOUS]

You never have trouble with it? Controlling it?

Oh, yes. Think of it as a big red button. You push it one too many times and you're on fire, burning forever. Best not to overdo it.

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