Belling the Cat

[fuckyeahloki]

[OOC: Continued from here

Hello, Bruce, did you miss me?

[He's manspreading on the nearest chair, appearing there only a second before in black roiling space and eldritch blue energy. With a neat little gesture, Loki tucked the Tesseract back into his pocket dimension. He looked no worse for wear after a rather extended meeting with the King of Asgard. Pleasant person, that Valkyrie. He rather owed Bruce for this particular blind introduction.]

Or do you prefer Brulk now? Hulce? We never did nail down those particulars and I would hate not to use your preferred manner of address.

[He's smiling with teeth as he moves onto the unpleasant part. Another flick of his wrist and there's the control device.]

I've brought you a gift. Do text my generous King, long may she reign, to let her know it arrived safely.

[And there's the smile turning into a baring of teeth, just the flash of a silent snarl before Loki just looks generally congenial again.]

Comments

[hulkbusted]

[Loki appears while Bruce is sewing a flap of leather back onto the shoulder of his sweater where it came loose. He’s using a needle the size of an awl and bloodlessly pokes himself with it when Loki startles him by just appearing in his house.]

Knocking. It’s a thing here on Earth. I expect you to practice it.

[He sets his glasses aside and holds out his hand for the control while he flips his phone over and swipes it open.]

What ground rules did you two agree on? [Like he isn’t going to get a copy of any agreement from Val, since he doesn’t trust Loki.]

[fuckyeahloki]

[He has played to the absolute letter of his agreement since its inception, staying largely to his loft on something of self imposed house arrest. He's been out, of course, as evidenced by the stack of books to the side of his lounge chair, but kept the outings brief so as not to arouse panic. Though, he seems to stir far less panic than he might have years ago.

For the moment, the majority of the books in his stack focus on international contract law. He might just be taking some of Bruce's advice about ingratiating himself into the sad dregs of the Aesir populace. They are not as he remembered which is more disconcerting than ire raising. There is wariness, yes, but a grudging sense of trust, of respect that feels more genuine than anything he ever had before his fall. Something apart of Thor, not his shadow- thought not- he snaps the book closed and stands up, pacing.

There's so much. The idea of him- changed, different, dead- an eerie feeling, but of what? Is it a sign? His future forked and that Loki took a path that ended him, so he ought to choose differently? Or is this something else. He doesn't know. He's not sure. That's one of the other reasons he's here and allowed himself to be seemingly contained with the control disk. He needs, what? Time? Silence? The ability to do absolutely nothing?

There might be one single self help book stuffed in the stack by his lounge. Impulse buy, he swears.]