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[changeinasnap]

So first the gates of Hell open.

Then the Weekly World News shuts down.

Then it turns out the Winchester brothers, Señor Muttonhead and Muttonhead Junior, are the ones responsible for bullet point A up there?

Man, this is the worst fall ever.

Sulking, he scoops up a bite of waffle -- okay, more like a tiny island of cooked dough in an Atlantic-sized sea of maple syrup -- and eyes Milliways at large. Maybe he should tie a couple of metaphorical shoelaces together or something. Pranks always make him feel better.

(Hey, don't judge. He's a trickster. He's allowed!)



[OOC: as per usual, slowtimes are highly likely, but! Post is open until it scrolls.]

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[changeinasnap]

He leans so near to Coyote that his lips practically brush the shell of her ear, breath tickling her earlobe.




And as if confiding a great secret, or murmuring sweet nothings to her, the being who calls himself Loki whispers: "It's none of your damn business."

[howling_laugh]

Coyote lets out a huff, pulling back so fast her hair whirls around.

"Have it your way, Loki." She sneers. "But you had best not expect me to be helpful if we meet again."

She gets up, and pushes away from the bar.

[changeinasnap]

"Oh. Oh, my heart," he deadpans. "It breaks."

Maybe if he weren't in such a foul mood to start, he'd think twice about pissing off a god who's on the (semi) level with his secret identity. Especially one of the tricksters.

Then again? Probably not.

"I kinda got the feeling we won't be seeing a lot of each other again anyway, sweetheart."