st_ratagem | [Loki and Thor] Take two

Twenty minutes had proved to be more than enough time to raid the café's bar area, taking several (eight? ten? Loki didn't count) bottles of various liquors. The God of Mischief was generally an occasional drinker or social drinker at best, but Thor was another matter. His brother had prodigious tolerance even for an Asgardian.

He wasn't used to a cryptic, secretive Thor, or a Thor with a bizarre tendency to follow him around like a puppy, or a Thor that wept on him for no apparent reason. It was strange, it was worrying, it had to stop. The solution had to be somewhere in what had happened between Loki's 'now' and Thor's, and if Thor needed to be drunk to give him those facts, his brother was more than happy to take that request seriously.

The acquired bottles went into the little nook under the stairs - not to stay there long, almost certainly. After due consideration, Loki also hauled the trash can out of the bathroom and placed it by the large bed on the lower level, for empties. It was the only decent place to sit that wasn't in the upper-level area that was for sleeping or the outdoor balcony.

At that point, all there was to do was wait.

Threaded | Flat

Thor'd sat at the pool bar for well over a half hour, drinking whatever top-shelf liquor he could find. By the time twenty minutes passed, he still wasn't feeling a buzz. He considered sending Loki a message, but decided to spend that time busting open and consuming a bottle of Johnnie Walker whisky.

He gazes out at the pool, thinks of Valkyrie, and wonders if she's okay. For all of his talk of her drinking and hiding and him running towards his problems, he sure seems to be doing a lot of drinking and hiding just to pull together the will to take even a single step towards them.

Thor tosses the empty bottles into the recycling, then grabs a few more bottles for the road. Loki told him he'd have drinks at the ready, but Loki wasn't of Asgardian blood (though he was every bit an Asgardian as he was), and he wasn't entirely convinced that whatever stores he'd commandeered for the occasion would be sufficient enough to get Thor where he needed to be.

And so, 25 minutes late, Thor arrives at Loki's door, bottles tucked under his arms and held between fingers. He can't possibly knock on the door with his hands, so it occurs to him that he might want to knock with his head.

He does.

"Loki," he calls out, his brother's name slightly slurred on his lips. "It's me! Come get the door!"

no subject