manofmyword | (no subject)

(no subject)

There is a Jotunn in the bar, wearing a blue shirt and green vest, sitting at a table by the Window and humming to himself as he builds a house of cards. A pair of scars trail up from the corner of his mouth, one broad and puckered, the other thinner, hooking into the shape of a smile.

He seems very pleased with himself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Wellll, there ya go." His smile widens, creasing the scars on either side.

Loki doesn't know much about his evil twin, except for the whole evil thing. He has no idea that in another Universe, his father is capable of maintaining lies and deceptions of the most personal, intimate sort.

He has no idea that in another Universe, Loki tried to commit genocide against his own people.

"That still doesn't answer my question," he says.

"Doesn't it?"

"No," he says flatly.

He shrugs.

"Mmmmwhat was the question again?"

"What did you do to him?" Loki asks simply. "This isn't you. You're too warm, and I can't feel any magic in you."

"Oh, y'know," he says, tipping his head to one side and grinning, "I flirt, he flirts back."

"Hel of a way to flirt," Loki says. "I'd call it a curse, if I didn't know better."

"Mm, he would, too." Gleefully, "The first time I hit on him, he turned my underwear into ants."

"Have you tried subtlety?" Loki asks. "Men are killed for such behaviour on Asgard."

"What would be the fun in that? Anyway, he likes me," the Joker says confidently. "He's just got a funny way of showing it."

"Oh, yes. I can see that," Loki says. "Clearly."

The sarcasm is thick with this one.

He snorts.

"Because I frequently curse my friends in the most inconvenient way imaginable," Loki says.

Well... Technically Sif wasn't a friend. And really, she deserved that.

"Oh, I never said we were friends."

Loki studies this stranger for a moment.

"Have you got a carer?" he asks, aware that this is a somewhat common practise on Midgard.

He cocks his head.

"A what?"

"Oh, never mind."

He looks up at the stranger and shakes his head.

"You're upsetting me. Open your mouth."

His tongue touches his lips; he regards Loki, thoughtfully, then smiles.

"Okay."

Loki puts his thumb in his own mouth for a moment before pulling it out again and pressing it to the stranger's tongue.

Somehow, the alternative doesn't seem entirely wise with this fellow.

Loki puts his thumb back in his mouth, taking a moment to taste the magic left by his other self. It's definitely his magic, but also not. Loki wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it's fascinating all the same.

"How do I taste?" he inquires.

"Like garlic. What have you been eating?"

This isn't exactly his magic, so he's focused on trying to break the spell apart — something which is infinitely easier when it's his own spell to begin with.

"Caught me," he says cheerfully.

Fairly certain that he's found what he's looking for, he holds onto everything and calmly gets up and walks round to the other side of the table. Without even bothering to ask permission, he presses his forehead against this funny stranger's and reaches out with both hands, pressing his fingers hard against the pulse points on Joker's neck.

His lack of practise with this branch of magic is evident (to those who know about such things) as he quietly recites the spell in the ancient language of the Realms. A glamour would be one thing, but no. This jackass evil twin just had to go with a curse.

He licks his lips.

"Nice to meet you too," he says, and picks up another card with a hand that is no longer blue.