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….
"Greetings, my King," he tried to portray impassivity, but he was doing a mediocre job. "Everything is fine." He cast a sideways glance at the Destroyer, which was currently pretending to be an ordinary statue. "Perfectly fine. Your decree regarding the recording of the worlds belonging to the Titan Thanos is being executed."
"Excellent, just don't overwork yourself," I encouraged the Aesir, "everyone needs rest. Sapient beings without a vacation, or pulled out of one, just go feral, trust my experience."
"…" Right, I am a Proud Statue, I know nothing and understand nothing. Okay then.
"Why I actually dropped by, be a friend, organize a Bridge to the town where Thor is sitting, we're going to bring him home. So to speak, an amnesty in honor of the victory in the war with Jotunheim."
"Yes, my King." Did… did his eyelid just twitch? Nah, probably just my imagination.
But the familiar rainbow tunnel hospitably opened, inviting me to enter and proceed to my destination. Well then, I hope during these couple of days that have passed since my illusory visit, Thor hasn't managed to step in it anywhere. He hasn't, right?
Upon exiting the transition, I looked around, orienting myself to the terrain. Not that I distrusted Heimdall or worried that he, out of the goodness of his heart and, of course, completely by accident, would send me somewhere to Surtur on the horns (not when the Destroyer is standing next to him quietly fixing a primus stove, and I myself possess Gungnir, allowing me to control the Bifrost from anywhere in the galaxy), but I needed to understand which way to move.
Right, there it is, that provincial town, about four hundred meters away, and I am on a wasteland just outside the town. Not bad.
So, next step, disguise. A "person" in Asgardian clothes strolling down the streets of an American town is quite a sight, and I had no desire to shock simple Americans from the boondocks, not my caliber.
An effort of will, and here I am standing in an expensive suit, patent leather shoes… and with a golden spear in my hands.
Hmm… that won't do.
"Listen, Gungnir, how about sitting in the pocket dimension for a bit?" I knew the answer, but what if?
"…" A sharp negative. This willful weapon did not wish to find itself in a place where no one could behold its Might and Majesty.
"Fine, then at least let me turn you into a cane." I transmit the image of a fancy cane. An anthracite-black shaft, reinforced and decorated with images of snakes cast from gold.
"…" The weapon thought about it, but the coloring was still somewhat negative, something like "it's a bit too short"… Yeah, there should have been a joke about Freud and phallic symbols here, but I doubt my "interlocutor" would get the punchline.
"By the way, in Midgard, a cane is a very high-status item, demonstrating the style and class of its owner."
"…"
"I know you are already beautiful and wonderfully demonstrate who your owner is, but the locals simply won't understand. A thousand years have passed since you last appeared here; for mortals that's a long time, they've managed to revise their ideas of greatness a bunch of times already."
"And generally, you should already be proud of me and realize your own epicness, less than a week has passed since I took you in my hand, and you've already ended the life of the King of Jotunheim right in the middle of the holy of holies of his domain, and witnessed your chosen one seize an entire kingdom!"
"So you can be sure, if Loki says a stylish cane is high-status and magnificent, then it is so. And anyway, it's unseemly for a weapon like you to play hard to get, like a maiden before an offer to stroll in the night park at a feast with a charming Aesir."
I didn't know why I was duplicating this with my voice when the spear only perceives thought-images, but… I guess it was easier for me to formulate that way. Yes, let's not think about alternatives, it should be ashamed, not me!
"…" Something like a combination of embarrassment, acceptance, and a touch of amusement came over the link.
Hey, does Odin's weapon actually have the beginnings of a sense of humor? Never would have thought. Or has it already picked up all sorts of bad things from me?
Yeah… I'll need to visit a psychologist or a psychotherapist. Talking to a spear is strange, and when it answers you, even stranger, and the hallucinated crying Afro-Asgardian is also… not a good sign.
Anyway, fine, consent obtained, and Gungnir allowed itself to be turned into an elegant cane without objection, exactly the one I showed in the thought-image.
"Magnificent," I twirled the altered weapon. "Well then, now I am ready, and I can visit my dear little brother."
Fifteen minutes of unhurried walking, and here I am again at the office of the "climatologists" who are astrophysicists. Yes, I remembered what their profession is.
Not much had changed since my last visit, except that a familiar road monster of the "palace on wheels" model appeared in the parking lot in front of the building.
Right, don't forget to get Laura's souvenirs; can't deprive the combat hamster of her shiny things. During the urgent evacuation, I somehow forgot about it, but now I should make a mental note.
"Anyone alive?" entering the doors, I denote my presence with a short tap of the cane on the wall. Yeah, no locks or deadbolts. Anyone can come in and take whatever they want.
"Um?" my old acquaintance in glasses peeked her nose out from behind one of the doors. "Mr. Loki?" she asked uncertainly, then looked me over more carefully. "Wow…" and quickly darted back.
"Hmm… and what was that?" I asked the emptiness.
The emptiness didn't answer, apparently, that's the prerogative exclusively of Nathrezim, but whatever.
But a couple of minutes later I was graced with the presence of the already familiar people and Thor himself.
And yes, Darcy, who met me first, managed to comb her hair, fix her clothes, and it seems, apply a little makeup.
Quick, but why? Or… did someone decide that since her friend snagged herself a whole God, she could repeat the feat and capture the second one?
Well, then the girl will have to be disappointed, alas.
Despite some prettiness of her face, a fullness of lips pleasing to the eye, and breast size somewhere between a D and DD, it was quite obvious to me that if you remove the "right packaging" in the form of clothes, the picture waiting for me is at best "satisfactory," but certainly not "excellent."
This was the direct opposite of Yuriko, who at our first meeting wore a suit that gave her appearance the maximum repulsive effect, behind which, only by looking closely, could one discern beauty.
Miss Lewis acted strictly the opposite, striving to emphasize her attractive features, on the second, closer look she left only flaws, nullifying the entire first effect.
"Loki?" meanwhile, the Thunderer was surprised.
"In the flesh," I saluted him with the cane, after which I had to stoically endure a bear hug.
Even if the heroic strength of the man had considerably diminished, his dimensions remained impressive.
"Are you aware that the last time you hugged me this energetically was about seven hundred years ago?" I ask the blond, hugging this giant back.
"Really?" Thor was even more surprised.
"Yes, since then you mostly patted me on the shoulder and limited yourself to words," I enlighten this dunce regarding his egocentric behavior.
"Oh!" Odin's son clearly tried to recall the details. "That was definitely because of your pranks, wasn't it?" not very confidently, but… with conviction, the big guy asked me back.
"Most likely," I didn't deny it.
"Good afternoon," Jane greeted politely, tactfully waiting for us to finish.
"Likewise…" I shift my gaze to the scientists, purely for mischief pretending to recall their names. "Padmé… Darcy…" the girls got theirs in turn, and now even more effort in straining my thoughts. "Educated Viking!" Selvig got the control shot.
"Uh…" the man blinked in bewilderment.
….
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