[ A lopsided stretch of his smile into a grin, wonder mixing with pride and an odd tenderness that causes him to clarify: ]
I knew him for two years. The two of you are as different as you are alike. I'm not the me you know, am I? Not even the me you knew two months ago.
[ He frowns as the meaning in that clouds around the edges, then shores up his smirk ready for the final clarifying blow. The barlight turns it softer at its corners: blade turned butter knife. ]
The draw's not between you and him. The draw's between you and me. I found you here, and here I am. You're welcome.
[ The alcohol strips out the kinder core of the point that had him voice any of this in the first place, but he doesn't notice. The message wrapped up in there somewhere: I'm a joy and a delight, (and a nightmare and a pain), and the quality of company exchanged in the finding of Loki Laufeyson here is fair and equivalent. A win for both parties. Draw. ]
That's a long-winded way of saying I'm your BFF in this dimension.
[ He's not sure what he should be grateful for, though he is, because he can sense the sentiment even if he's too far gone on drinks to follow up with some smart wordplay. The Silvertongue could, the immortal god could, but the twenty-something wondering why he can't just be told Yes, you're my Favourite Loki by anyone (save to himself) just sits up on the table and leans on his folded knees. ]
Which could be part of my diabolical plan, you just don't know.
[ A shrug, easy. Anything being possible, there may come a day he's given cause to seriously doubt Loki or his intentions. At this point he thinks it about as likely as being given cause to doubt Tony or Damian. Nothing that needs planning for.
He sets his glass down, finally, to one side of Loki. ]
[ Loki brings his knees up, an arm wrapped around them as he plays with his empty glass, tapping it against a knee. ]
If you say the reward is my friendship, I'll turn into a pony right here and now.
[ He does shimmer with green but it only scours away the smart shirt and tie combo, leaving him in the comfortable jeans and soft green hoodie he favours most.
The glass is tapped near Stephen's edge of the table. ]
We should go get a bucket of fried chicken before we crash. Lots of little saucy pots. Pots of sauce. You know.
I do know. [ There's comfort in Loki's return to his most comfortable, and Stephen tries offering some back with the swift answer to that call to motion. Yes. Let's go. ] I think that sounds like a very good plan.
[ It's with an old man's gear-up - a couple of preparatory back and forth rocks on his seat - that Stephen eases himself up to standing. The pat to Loki's knee is only a little bit to offset the overbalance. ]
Come on. Before you turn into anything you regret.
I never regret anything I turn into! Except bears. They leave a weird aftertaste like the fuzz of a peach on your tongue ...
[ He hooks a stabilising hand into Stephen's clothing and opens a portal for them, muttering all the way through it about why being a snake is superior to almost any other animal, including the pro "you can swim in a glass of ale". ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Are you jealous?
[ Mild wonder, mingling with disbelief and the beginnings of childish delight. ]
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[ ... That came out way too drunk. ]
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I knew him for two years. The two of you are as different as you are alike. I'm not the me you know, am I? Not even the me you knew two months ago.
[ He frowns as the meaning in that clouds around the edges, then shores up his smirk ready for the final clarifying blow. The barlight turns it softer at its corners: blade turned butter knife. ]
The draw's not between you and him. The draw's between you and me. I found you here, and here I am. You're welcome.
[ The alcohol strips out the kinder core of the point that had him voice any of this in the first place, but he doesn't notice. The message wrapped up in there somewhere: I'm a joy and a delight, (and a nightmare and a pain), and the quality of company exchanged in the finding of Loki Laufeyson here is fair and equivalent. A win for both parties. Draw. ]
no subject
[ He's not sure what he should be grateful for, though he is, because he can sense the sentiment even if he's too far gone on drinks to follow up with some smart wordplay. The Silvertongue could, the immortal god could, but the twenty-something wondering why he can't just be told Yes, you're my Favourite Loki by anyone (save to himself) just sits up on the table and leans on his folded knees. ]
Which could be part of my diabolical plan, you just don't know.
[ Siiiip. ]
no subject
[ A shrug, easy. Anything being possible, there may come a day he's given cause to seriously doubt Loki or his intentions. At this point he thinks it about as likely as being given cause to doubt Tony or Damian. Nothing that needs planning for.
He sets his glass down, finally, to one side of Loki. ]
The reward justifies the risk.
no subject
If you say the reward is my friendship, I'll turn into a pony right here and now.
[ He does shimmer with green but it only scours away the smart shirt and tie combo, leaving him in the comfortable jeans and soft green hoodie he favours most.
The glass is tapped near Stephen's edge of the table. ]
We should go get a bucket of fried chicken before we crash. Lots of little saucy pots. Pots of sauce. You know.
no subject
[ It's with an old man's gear-up - a couple of preparatory back and forth rocks on his seat - that Stephen eases himself up to standing. The pat to Loki's knee is only a little bit to offset the overbalance. ]
Come on. Before you turn into anything you regret.
no subject
[ He hooks a stabilising hand into Stephen's clothing and opens a portal for them, muttering all the way through it about why being a snake is superior to almost any other animal, including the pro "you can swim in a glass of ale". ]