CLOSED. COMBAT BABY.

[selfimage]

CHARACTERS: Thor & Loki
DATE: After the raid
WARNINGS: Loki is the warning
SUMMARY: Weird brother stuff at the inn.

[ inventory: two bottles of red wine, prime vintage. a book with lavish golden embroidered lettering on the spine, titled something about gods and legends of Chantes. a bag of multi-colored glowsticks, unused. a portable compact disc player from the '90s with an honest-to-Od compact disc inside. raspberry pastries dusted with sugar, wrapped in a square napkin. a jar of cookie butter.

Loki puts a black finger nail to his chin, as if in silent review. ]

Check ... [ he says to himself, green eyes flickering between his victory stash. ] Check, checkcheckcheck aaaaand check. [ the finger swings outward. ] That's everything.

[ during the raid, Loki refused to leave empty handed, even if it was something less than glamorous, like a book (a very important book!) and a few bottles of dusty wine. it was about the memento, and how he meant to demonstrate both his trickstery prowess and as proof of how well his endeavors had paid off.

for now he's discarded his armor and jacket, leaving them draped unceremoniously across an unpolished wooden chair in the corner of the room. he's in his loose green shirt and black slacks, only briefly wishing that he had a hoodie or something that wasn't his Asgardian armor. the room is small (cozy?) but Loki doesn't seem to have a complaint with it. in another life, another time, perhaps—so he chooses the path less traveled by an evil counterpart.

take that, King Loki.

with a flick of his wrist he grabs the cookie butter, unscrewing it with all intent on digging in. ]