I have to tell you something, it's to do with some of my old team-mates who are in the city. You won't like any of it, but now I've hashed out the personal particulars I feel it's time you were let in on the loop too.
[ Plus, everyone else might just blab it to her first and he really, really doesn't want that to happen. ]
[ A package arrives at the apartment, labelled for Verity Willis: a pair of black heels and elegant evening gown with a note attached in Asgardian hand-writing that reads DRESS FOR SEVEN ;)
Loki arrives at ten-to the hour that evening, waiting on the doorstep in a green velvet jacket and tuxedo. He wiggles his fingers Hello! at the peep-hole. Even his hair, usually fluffy and free, has been parted to one side and combed into submission. ]
[ After this, during a spare five minutes before going to meet the twins. ]
Verity, if I sound like I've tried to manipulate the young version of the Scarlet Witch on the network into doing anything relatively outlandish within the next couple of hours when I call you back after meeting up with her, phone Billy and ask him to punch me extremely hard.
[ Of the things that rank highly as Weird And Inexplicable, wondering what Verity is doing back at her apartment with her housemates shouldn't even qualify. Still, after having her over (at length) during the blizzard and, semi-regularly as and when he pleased, sharing his bed with her following that night in the bath, he finds "The Lair" is a lot more spacious and empty without her than how it was before. There are some things he isn't sorry to be doing without, such as extra hairs in his razor, but on the whole Loki finds himself slouching against counters, chinning a hand on his knee after video games, and eating alone in front of the television feeling the weight of his best friend's absence more keenly than ever.
It wasn't like this on Earth-616. There were far more things to do over there, unlike in Eudio where it usually feels like Loki is scratching at his skull for ways to keep his rampant curiosity satisfied, gleaning nothing from a stoic government and left with entirely too much time to fraternise with the (forgiving, you shouldn't let them) Young Avengers and his own ... person. It's not weird, now that they've slept together. There aren't fireworks blitzing around Verity's face whenever he looks at her, no astonishing revelations of belated Hollywood love tropes having been waiting in the eaves.
But he does miss the feel of her smile beneath his kiss; the ease of touch between them in the morning; the sound of her voice in lieu of a phantom's scream. Silly, sentimental things.
Friendship, he reasons, is inherently weird. ]
Ring, ring! Lair calling.
[ So when he calls her via video this time, reclined on the sofa in jeans and a couple of tees, he doesn't question why and just does it. That's a very Loki thing to do, after all. Why not? It's only half-past midnight. ]
[So-- this is sort of begrudging on his part. Not because he doesn't like Verity -- he does. A lot, actually. But Loki was a sore topic now more than ever. That didn't mean he wasn't entirely without concern. Loki had been-- miserable when they found him. He wanted to be sure he wasn't wasting away on a bench somewhere.
He didn't want to drag her into anything was between him and Loki though, so he asked as casual as possible--]
( when verity returns home from her update there is a giant fruit basket waiting for her, some of the fruit is even carved into flowers. it's a fucking awesome fruit basket, okay? also, chocolates. )
Dear Ms. Willis,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for your recent unscheduled return home.
Thank you for rejoining us. We appreciate your patience and your presence. Please don't hesitate to call on me if you should require any assistance.
You probably won't get this unless you return to the Cuddle Dimension, so I'm going to take advantage of that to be brutally honest.
I miss you. I wait for people to look at me the way you did, or come to me as you would with your arms open, and they don't. I wasn't going to splash out on my new apartment when I moved — the other place was too big without you there to fill it — but I saw a painting in all the hues of your hair. You know how you would dye yours a darker shade but you'd miss a bit and it would come through as a rosy marbling effect, red and pink and purple? It does that. I rested my forehead against it for a while yesterday and tried to talk to you, but nothing came out.
I'm helping name a pizzeria after you. It's such a morbid idea, as if you've died, but whatever. I wanted to call it "In Vino Veritas", heh, but I ... don't think it'll stick.
... I am sorry for leaving you at home, if that's what happens. I didn't mean to upset you while you were here, I was just scared. That's a really weak excuse from a god, right? Maybe I want to fool myself into believing you're listening, the thought itself is a comfort. You know how selfish I am.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
realistics) wrote2015-03-17 02:45 pm
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[ Plus, everyone else might just blab it to her first and he really, really doesn't want that to happen. ]
May I come over?
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roomie mass text.
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Would you mind that my moustache might tickle your thighs?
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( post-heist by a couple of days )
Loki arrives at ten-to the hour that evening, waiting on the doorstep in a green velvet jacket and tuxedo. He wiggles his fingers Hello! at the peep-hole. Even his hair, usually fluffy and free, has been parted to one side and combed into submission. ]
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I can't see my floor.
I won a crate of 5,000 condoms at a poker game, can I send you some?
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video.
( A little cagey. ) We could be from other worlds, but I still have a question for you: do the names Bertinelli or Cassamento mean anything to you?
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Verity, if I sound like I've tried to manipulate the young version of the Scarlet Witch on the network into doing anything relatively outlandish within the next couple of hours when I call you back after meeting up with her, phone Billy and ask him to punch me extremely hard.
Thanks.
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It wasn't like this on Earth-616. There were far more things to do over there, unlike in Eudio where it usually feels like Loki is scratching at his skull for ways to keep his rampant curiosity satisfied, gleaning nothing from a stoic government and left with entirely too much time to fraternise with the (forgiving, you shouldn't let them) Young Avengers and his own ... person. It's not weird, now that they've slept together. There aren't fireworks blitzing around Verity's face whenever he looks at her, no astonishing revelations of belated Hollywood love tropes having been waiting in the eaves.
But he does miss the feel of her smile beneath his kiss; the ease of touch between them in the morning; the sound of her voice in lieu of a phantom's scream. Silly, sentimental things.
Friendship, he reasons, is inherently weird. ]
Ring, ring! Lair calling.
[ So when he calls her via video this time, reclined on the sofa in jeans and a couple of tees, he doesn't question why and just does it. That's a very Loki thing to do, after all. Why not? It's only half-past midnight. ]
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He didn't want to drag her into anything was between him and Loki though, so he asked as casual as possible--]
Any chance you've seen Loki?
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A LETTER AND A FRUIT BASKET.
Dear Ms. Willis,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for your recent unscheduled return home.
Thank you for rejoining us. We appreciate your patience and your presence. Please don't hesitate to call on me if you should require any assistance.
Warmest regards,
Martin Ward
Mayor
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[ In other words: SAVE ME PLS ]
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i almost wrote loki instead of lucky SIGHS
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is it monday yet
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( voicemail unreceived )
You probably won't get this unless you return to the Cuddle Dimension, so I'm going to take advantage of that to be brutally honest.
I miss you. I wait for people to look at me the way you did, or come to me as you would with your arms open, and they don't. I wasn't going to splash out on my new apartment when I moved — the other place was too big without you there to fill it — but I saw a painting in all the hues of your hair. You know how you would dye yours a darker shade but you'd miss a bit and it would come through as a rosy marbling effect, red and pink and purple? It does that. I rested my forehead against it for a while yesterday and tried to talk to you, but nothing came out.
I'm helping name a pizzeria after you. It's such a morbid idea, as if you've died, but whatever. I wanted to call it "In Vino Veritas", heh, but I ... don't think it'll stick.
... I am sorry for leaving you at home, if that's what happens. I didn't mean to upset you while you were here, I was just scared. That's a really weak excuse from a god, right? Maybe I want to fool myself into believing you're listening, the thought itself is a comfort. You know how selfish I am.
See you later, BFF.