Unfortunately for Darcy's amazing escape plan, Loki was sat out in the lounge and therefore in full view of the door.
He was ostensibly watching the television, though in actuality he was deep in thought. He had come to quite like this Midgardian invention, it was a convenient way of achieving the stories of feasts and celebration days at any time. Though many of the 'shows' that he had been introduced to were less palatable than the invention itself. Midgardians watched a lot of trite nonsense.
The show on at the moment had started with a blare of noise and flashing words stamped at diagonal angles, and had then devolved into several overweight mortals discussing their marital issues while the assembled audience vented their displeasure loudly. He had paid attention long enough to realise he thought this the worst sort of banal triviality, before he had descended into his own thoughts.
Mostly about Darcy Lewis, though to a lesser extent also Jane and Erik, and even the mortals on the street.
They had all been so kind to him, so open and genuinely pleasant. For the first time in his life he was not stood in Thor's shadow and nobody's attention came second-place and only out of deference to his brother. Here he was liked, or seemed to be, and even had a friend in Miss Lewis if the frequent gifts of unsuitable clothing and odd-smelling pastries left in his room were any indication.
He knew he could not stay and that it could not last. But even through the guilt and the locked away tumult of emotion over what had happened before, he was... happy.
Loki tilted his head when Darcy crept into his peripheral vision and offered her a surprisingly warm smile, though curiosity sparked in his eyes only moments later. She looked tense, why should that be? Where was she going so late at night?
"I hope it is not the raucous revelry of Mr. Springer that drives you from the apartment so late?"
no subject
He was ostensibly watching the television, though in actuality he was deep in thought. He had come to quite like this Midgardian invention, it was a convenient way of achieving the stories of feasts and celebration days at any time. Though many of the 'shows' that he had been introduced to were less palatable than the invention itself. Midgardians watched a lot of trite nonsense.
The show on at the moment had started with a blare of noise and flashing words stamped at diagonal angles, and had then devolved into several overweight mortals discussing their marital issues while the assembled audience vented their displeasure loudly. He had paid attention long enough to realise he thought this the worst sort of banal triviality, before he had descended into his own thoughts.
Mostly about Darcy Lewis, though to a lesser extent also Jane and Erik, and even the mortals on the street.
They had all been so kind to him, so open and genuinely pleasant. For the first time in his life he was not stood in Thor's shadow and nobody's attention came second-place and only out of deference to his brother. Here he was liked, or seemed to be, and even had a friend in Miss Lewis if the frequent gifts of unsuitable clothing and odd-smelling pastries left in his room were any indication.
He knew he could not stay and that it could not last. But even through the guilt and the locked away tumult of emotion over what had happened before, he was... happy.
Loki tilted his head when Darcy crept into his peripheral vision and offered her a surprisingly warm smile, though curiosity sparked in his eyes only moments later. She looked tense, why should that be? Where was she going so late at night?
"I hope it is not the raucous revelry of Mr. Springer that drives you from the apartment so late?"