milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[ooc: post David/Charlie. slowtimed. v.v. slowtimed.]

Charlie enters the wear, wearing a green t-shirt that reads "Tis Himself" in gold Celtic-like letters.

His hair is also green.

Please don't ask him to sing "Dannyboy". He might hurt you.

~~[ooc: mun must flee for some obligations. back later. slowtime please?]~~

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Charlie smiles uncertainly. "Thanks. I can see what David sees too."

"What? The wings? Yes, they really are a bit ob--"

He's grinning though. Warm.

"You're very cute," Charlie says honestly.

It's something of a pout he gets for that. Then again, it's a very cute pout, so really, if that gets commented on, it's Loki's own fault.

"I don't try for cute, but I suppose I'll have to accept it eventually. Usually, I go for beautiful or attractive...but I can swing with 'cute'. I guess it's a side effect of being eight years old so often."

Another impish grin and then a tilt of the head.

"If I were trying to chat you up I'd say something like that. But I'm not. So."

"Chat me--"

He blinks.

"Well..."

But he's grinning.

"Aren't you sweet?"

"I've been accused of such." He smiles.

And now he leans on the side of the piano bench because really, with the added height, he was scrunched under there.

"Hm, much better than what I'm usually accused of. Myths? Are bloody annoying sometimes."

"I don't think I know your myths."

He snorts.

"Bad press, the lot of it. And depressing as anything. We all know how we're going to die. Lovely bit of work there. Yes, so...I'm a Trickster and if you know any myths...or even just a normal, mortal practical joker in person? You'll see how well I'm liked."

He arches an eyebrow and smiles. "Not very?"

He looks up at Charlie.

"My, aren't you bright? Very good. 'Not very'. Meanwhile, they completely ignore the fact that I'm necessary. Half the bloody myths happened because I was there to make them happen, and while they call me Oathbreaker, I've never broken one. Liesmith, and yet I almost never lie. Foe of the Gods when I've pulled all of their collective asses out of the fryer more often than most of them can count up to."

He looks up to Charlie.

"Feel free to...bap me on the head or something if I get irritating."

Charlie smiles.

And then beeps his nose.

"Mrrep."

He blinks.

"Is that 'you're annoying me' or 'you're rather cute, I don't mind'?"

"Option number two, please." He's still smiling.

He looks up at Charlie with a scrinched nose, a grin, and blinking, yet amused, eyes.

"I don't dispense drinks, you know."

"I'm just praticing the 'got your nose' game for when Seth's big enough."

Loki's eyes immediately soften at the mention of the baby.

"Cute, is he?"

He's a father. Sometimes it shows. Right now? It's showing.

"He is." Charlie's voice is soft too. "He's perfect. Very pink and bald and round and wobbly."

He smiles.

"I had one like that. My daughter."

And his eyes darken a little, but...there are happy memories.

"And a little cub and a very small snake."

And it must sound very odd, but you couldn't tell it from his tone. It's all paternal pride and lots of love.

"I'm guessing the snake is Yamino . . . who is the cub?"

"Fenrir."

He smiles.

"He's at home. He hasn't made his way in. I doubt he will. Not very social that one."

"Fenrir . . . he hasn't happened to have been trapped in the body of a kitten recently, has he?"

He shakes his head.

"No, I've heard of him. Not mine, strictly...but mine, I suppose. It's...a bit complicated, but no. I've not yet met the Fenrir in the body of a kitten...but I hope to."

Because it's still his son. Because it has to be because otherwise Hel is dead and the Hel in the bar isn't his daughter and he can't think like that or he'll fall apart and start going mad again.

"Different realities, I suppose," Charlie says in a comforting tone. "Different histories.

"My own brother comes from six months into my future--my own alternative reality. It's very strange. I try not to think about it too much--just makes my head swim."