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[foolyoutwice]

Loki makes a graceful entrance. It's...graceful after the first stumbling step through the Door, anyway, which he walks off like a cat that's fallen off a windowsill. A) He meant to do that, and B) you didn't see anything, right? It takes him a second or two longer to recover from his momentary expression of Where the hell am I?

But right. It's Milliways. Perfect. He saunters to the Bar, where he finds a letter waiting for him:

From Loki of Asgard, to Loki of Milliways, Greetings.

Or if you're the less formal type: Hey Loki, it's Loki! <3 <3 <3

So, funny thing, I found myself in your multiversal bar while I was on my way to save Midgard from doom and misery (!), and....

The Bar offers him a drink without being asked, and he sips it while reading over his interdimensional mail.

Comments

[cottoncandypink]

At some point, a tall, scrawny dog comes trotting into the bar, with an enormous stick in his mouth. He makes it up to the bar before stopping and shaking himself out, flinging sand and water and wet sand in every direction.

Wilford, who has come in from the lake for lunch, gets a bit sand blasted himself, but mostly ignores it. He's already pretty covered in sand as well, so what's a little bit of dog sand added to it?

He ignores anyone nearby who might have also been hit and orders a sandwich and a fresh beer.

[foolyoutwice]

The wet sand hits Loki--and goes flying off him again a moment later, so Wilford might get an extra blast.

...and Wilford's sandwich appears to be stuffed with tiny writhing live serpents.

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford knows black magic fuckery when he sees it, which is why the sandwich gets a swift toss over the bar and away from him. He has to stop the dog from jumping over to get it, because that's the last thing he needs right now.

"The fuck was that?"

Once he gets all four of the dog's feet back on the floor, he dares to lean over to look at the mess on the other side of the bar, ready to pull his gun out of his inventory if he has to.

[foolyoutwice]

Perfectly ordinary sandwich remains slide down the wall and ooze on the floor, not looking anything like snakes at all. It's a sight to bring a smile to any trickstery asshole's face, and it does brighten Loki's mood a little.

"...Does your meal offend you?"

[cottoncandypink]

"Did you do that?"

Why yes, that is an accusatory tone. That was a perfectly good sandwich before someone put snakes in it.

His tone may be somewhat undercut by the fact that he's wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.

[foolyoutwice]

"Hmmmmm. Did your animal shake wet sand all over me?"

But hey, the sand is gone, the guy's lunch is ruined, all's well that ends well. "By the way, nice, ah..." He waves a hand. "...small trousers?"

[cottoncandypink]

He looks down at his shorts, and slowly sits back down again. "Fuck off."

Wilford orders another sandwich, and carefully checks this one for snakes. Meanwhile, Buster has not noticed that anything is amiss at all, and decides to come say hi to the new person. Which means sticking his nose into anything that might look like a pocket.

[foolyoutwice]

Loki is not interested in dogs. He's really really good at the thing where you pretend to throw a ball and the dog chases it little knowing that it was a trick, though. So after getting Buster's attention sufficiently--Here, boy! Here, boy! No, here, are you blind?--he sends a non-existent golf ball winging away to the other end of the room.

How many pink-mustached men can there be in Milliways? Not many, Loki's willing to guess. He'll just casually watch Wilford.

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford rolls his eyes when his idiot dog goes chasing after something that doesn't exist, knocking over chairs and leaping over tables in his mad search for whatever it is he thinks he'll find.

"That'll keep him busy for a while," he mutters. His lunch seems suitably snake-free, which hopefully means it's safe to eat.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is over by the piano, playing a rather passionate piece on a violin. He's good and the piece has power of its own. But something about it is irritating him. Like something he can't quite grasp.

He gives up and set the instrument down, coming over to the bar in search of tea. He gives Loki a respecful bow. "My lord."

[foolyoutwice]

Loki looks up from his letter and smiles faintly. "Mmmmmm?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Is all well with you? You seem- concerned?" Not that he's commenting on the way he tripped on the way in. At all.

[foolyoutwice]

No One Saw Him Trip. And He Meant To Do That Anyway.

"Quite well, thank you." He folds the paper and tucks it into his coat with a smile. "Just catching up on my mail. Apparently in other universes I have--an idiosyncratic style."

[thewidewideworld]

"Other versions of yourself? Oh, that would explain much." He chews on his lip, quietly introspective.

[foolyoutwice]

"Hm, would it? Because I find I'm left with more questions than explanations."

[thewidewideworld]

"There are parts of the tapestry woven but unseen. Other paths, other ways that life might have been. They split away like the branches of Yggdrasil."

"These paths are different worlds, different people. Like the person I would have been, had I been born to another age. Milliways is a place where these paths become close and may be felt," He gestures to the letters. "Or even cross each other. As it seems yours have."

"For myself, I can hear a song in my head. A song I know does not belong to me. But I see now it belongs to me as I might have been, but never was." He smiles sadly, his eyes glowing soft gold. "He's quite beautiful, the other me. Beautiful and sad."

[foolyoutwice]

"Yes, yes--many universes, many yous, many everyones. Many Lokis. I've been leaving them notes when I can; this is the first one to write back. He tells me he's 'cosplaying Cat Thor (it's a Thing now okay)' and that we should 'grab a coffee or a few beers and talk.'"

He looks at Sinric. "...what, do you need someone to tell you that you're beautiful and sad too?" His tone is hard to read.

[livinginmyglass]

Hey, speaking of encounters with other versions of yourself...

A wide-eyed, curly-haired pageboy is staaaaring from down the bar.

[foolyoutwice]

Well--hello, cute pageboy! (Boy? Eh, probably.) Loki has no objections whatsoever to staring, but he does eventually shoot back a Hey yeah, I know, I'd stare at me too look.

[livinginmyglass]

...ew, no.

"Are you not-- have we not--?"

[foolyoutwice]

What, there's nothing wrong with staring at Loki!

But his face does shift to something a little more quizzical. "Nnnnot that I recall?"

[livinginmyglass]

Ha. Right. It was like others had said-- another spirit placed in a familiar body. But what were the odds that the actual spirit, in its proper body, would then actually arrive here?

"Pardon me, I mistook you for another."

[foolyoutwice]

The proper body for this spirit makes a lot of the same faces Hal's spirit in Hal's body makes. Like right now, as quizzical shades into light teasing.

"I have to say, I really want to know now how those sentences were going to end. Am I not...? Have we not...? I promise I don't owe you money."

[livinginmyglass]

"Have you been told you look very like another who frequents this place?"

That seems like the simplest version to go with.

[foolyoutwice]

"Mmmmno, not exactly? There was another Loki here a few days ago--if he owes you money or betrayed your sister or insulted your honor, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it."