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[ikols]

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[rehandle]

Don't say I never get you anything.

[ikols]

my, my! thank you, daddy magic ;-*

[rehandle]

Oh, that's sticking around? Wonderful.

[ikols]

i got you smthn too, do you want it?

[rehandle]

I don't know. Do I?

[ikols]

trust me :) you do

[rehandle]

Alright then. Hit me.

[ikols]

[ A portal opens up in a ring of lime-green sparks as if eating reality out of the way between Stephen's location and Loki's: a dive-bar, albeit a nice one. He stands there with his arms spread ... and the magic soaked into every inch of the building wafts over like a warning, but only to someone who doesn't know how to teleport (or the equivalent).

He wears black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a skinny black tie loosened at the neck. Helmed, naturally, as he cocks his head. Jazz plays somewhere in the background, filtering across the portal line. ]

Don't say I never get you anything.

[rehandle]

[ The portal opens and Stephen straightens where he's propped against his desk, taking one last sip of watered whiskey before abandoning the tumbler to the desktop as magic drifts out to mingle with magic, sharpening his senses. ]

What am I looking at?

[ But there's already half a smile on his face as he steps through the portal, eyes everywhere, and finally on Loki. They'd had a conversation not so long ago about a place in Manhattan. What was it...

Right. a bar would be nice. ]

[ikols]

[ Loki leads him to the bar, staffed by a gruff looking older man with a pot-belly and a sincere disinterest in the oddly dressed patrons at booths and tables. ]

The Bar With No Doors, Two-Point-Oh style! Asgardian ale please, Frank. [ That's said politely to the bartender. ] I figured since this dimension doesn't have one, it might as well be our responsibility to make sure it exists.

No one gets in or out unless they can teleport, portal, phase ... you get the idea. [ Loki sips his bottle when it's slid over, wiping his lips of beer froth. His portal closes, forgotten, and the bar descends into soft orange lighting under frilled lamps. ] Well, they might be allowed to break in but good luck to anyone who tries getting out.

[ His eyes glint with a wicked kind of mischief. He watches Stephen closely, green eyes lingering on that mild smile. ]

A club needs somewhere to gather, after all.

[rehandle]

[ And already staffed. The smile never falters, tweaks a little higher even as Loki orders his drink and continues on, watching Frank pour the ale and glancing out again at the clientele. Staffed and patronized.

Pretty impressive clubhouse.

Back to Loki again, the lopsided quirk of his mouth now an earnest marker of delight. ]

How long have you been pulling this together?

[ikols]

I didn't just twiddle my thumbs and mope dramatically in the rain on tall buildings while I was off the grid.

[ The ale is slid Stephen's way: Loki orders an appletini for himself and leans on the bar, pleased with Stephen's reaction. He shrugs as if it's not a big deal but colour remains in his cheeks all the same, having never come close to fostering a positive relationship with his own Strange before. ]

Invite whoever you like, it's for everyone. Well, not to be a magic-snob, but for anyone like us.

[rehandle]

[ The ale glass cool under his reaching palm, Stephen laughs, fixing Loki with a dubious look that doesn't do much to diminish the glint in his eye. ]

Are you trying to knock me out?

[ Asgardian ale, Loki?

He doesn't linger on it, but he does abandon it for now. Quick as a flash he's making his way to the bar hatch, making short work of it, shooing Frank out of the way once he gets there. Sorry, Frank, thank you, I'll take this one from here. And then there he is, behind the bar, combining ingredients with practiced if shuddering ease, doubling up on key measurements and deftly swapping out juice for a liqueur. ]

Dangerous game to play with a professional.

[ikols]

[ Look at him go! Well, fine, he'll sip both of his drinks while Stephen bartends the shit out of that bar. ]

Since when are you Tim Cruise in an eighties movie?

[ Chinhanding it happening because it really is charming to watch, though! ]

[rehandle]

[ He can try to sip those drinks - he's not serving everyone, just here to swipe that appletini and replace it with his own slightly more dangerous concoction slid carefully over the countertop back to Loki just as soon as it's ready. ]

I did tell you I owned a bar in another life.

[ Sure, it was a sports bar, but they stretched to the odd cocktail not served in a bowl and it doesn't pay to learn skills by halves. Anyway, with the drink out of the way he's stepping back to investigate the bar's stock, a low whistle marking his appreciation as he takes in barrels and bottles and all sorts. ]

You really went all out. [ A glance up, some of his brief thrill at being reintroduced to a bar setting easing in favor of an earnestness when he adds: ] It's perfect.

[ikols]

[ A thief!! He respects that. ]

Yes, but I didn't think you worked the bar.

[ He tastes the drink left in front of him, licking his lips to take a deeper swig as Stephen admires the liquors and spirits and mixers. Something very light flutters through all his organs, up and down, as his efforts are praised as perfect. ]

You deserve more than a mouldy old house to spend your time in.

[rehandle]

I'll have you know I like that house.

[ It's a weak protest, more habit and humor than complaint. Stephen's attention lifts from the varied stock for a moment, quiet as he looks back at Loki. ]

I should've checked on you.

[ He'd let it go far too long, too unsure of how to navigate choppy waters, then clueless as to how to find the bridge across once the immediacy of Billy's loss had ebbed. All the while, on the other shore, Loki was busy making all this. At least in part with Stephen in mind.

Two remembered years is long enough to have learned how to acknowledge when you've let a friend down. And not so long that he's forgotten how little either of them like to dwell. ]

Thanks. It's the best clubhouse I've ever had.

[ Tongue in cheek and dripping with airy sarcasm? Yes. A thin veil for earnest sentiment? Also yes. ]

[ikols]

[ He's used to feeling lonely, to letting people leave. Billy's loss was awful, and he had to retreat from anywhere he might be seen after Peter vanished home, and it was truly a horrible time, but ...

Those periods of being let down and abandoned never come as a shock to Loki for long. ]

I'm alright. I always am, in the end. [ He looks down at his drink, swirling it. A smile crooks his sombre tone. ] And you're welcome.

[rehandle]

[ And isn't that just the way. What choice do they ever have but to be fine in the end? ]

Come on. Let's get a booth.

[ The bar's great, but it doesn't offer a lot of privacy for melancholy if it comes, good humour if it doesn't. Stephen leaves the bar to its tender and wanders around to the front again, pinching the ale back from Loki and tilting his head toward a back corner before heading off himself. ]

[ikols]

[ Mildly pleased Stephen picked the ale after all, he follows behind with a sense of devil-may-care mixed with reassured confidence. Once they find an amber-lit booth he lifts Stephen's hand that isn't holding a drink and drapes his arm around Loki's shoulders, sliding into his side with a wriggle to get comfy. ]

You know what the best part of this place is?

[rehandle]

[ Stephen huffs a benign laugh as Loki invades his space but makes no move to counter or slip away, leaving his arm to rest idly around Loki's shoulders as he takes a sip of his drink and sets the glass back down before answering. ]

Drinks on the house?

[ Tongue in cheek. Go ahead, what's the best part of this place? ]

[ikols]

You're a real wit when you have the promise of endless alcohol before you.

[ It may be reminiscent of a cat getting comfortable, arching his back and settling down again until he's exactly where he wants to be. Sipping his drink, he curls idle fingers around Stephen's stolen hand where it lies lax and traces scars. ]

No Avengers can bust their way in. Mostly.

[rehandle]

[ Stephen's hand twitches once with first contact, unused to easy touch in this of all places in more lives now than he'd care to count. But past that initial involuntary flex, and the occasional shudder of crooked fingers that never really still, his hand stays where Loki found it, present under idle exploration.

This next huffed laughter is a little delayed, drowned in a swallow of ale, but his voice at least is steady. ]

Remind me the last time an Avenger busted in on you, doors or no doors?

[ikols]

[ His touch remains light, arm crooked up to let his fingers brush under the curl of Stephen's if that's easier for now. ]

... Alright, I'm usually the one doing the busting, [ shut up, wow, calling him out on it, ] but the point is they can't just waddle up with meaty green fists or a shield and bonk you on the head. Anyway, it's fun to watch sorcerers get wasted.

[rehandle]

[ Again, while he can absolutely relate on the Keep Out Avengers mood, it's not him who has to worry about being bonked on the head by shields or meaty green fists. But he won't rub that in. ]

Which explains the ale.

[ He's already starting to feel it, the pleasant hum of impending intoxication. But it's a ways off yet. Far enough to take another sip in quick succession. ]

Any bar fights yet?