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[leucemic-god.livejournal.com]

Time: August 8, 2000
Place: Bar
Status: Public (Complete)
Summary: Loki runs into Shadow.



It was almost time for another visit to the hospital and even though Loki still had enough money left from Uriel, he thought it might be a good idea to save some just in case the not-god refused to forge any more for him. She’d been friendly enough lately, but in his experience friendship was often a very temporary thing.

He wasn’t getting any stronger and if he didn’t put his sleight of hand to good use now, it might soon be impossible. It was already too unreliable for comfort.

The pub was too far for a casual trip by now, but with both wolves by his side a visit to the bar didn’t seem too risky. There had been a lot of new arrivals lately who weren’t wise to his tricks, yet. Maybe one of them would stop by. If not, he could always just enjoy some juice, listen and talk to the people around. You never knew what you might learn.

So one early evening on one of his better days Loki strolled casually into the bar followed by his old friends Freki and Geri.

Comments

whups... editied slightly

[classic-palm.livejournal.com]

Behind the bar, Shadow dried glasses and whistled a bit to himself in a bartender-ish sort of way. It was a good day; he really did enjoy the job, even when it was slow, as it currently was. He spent the slowest hours wiping down tables, washing and drying glasses, and, in one instance, repairing a chair leg that had somehow gotten broken. He spent the busy hours meeting interesting people and being the friendly bartender who had a eager and sympathetic ear for stories and some good jokes to offer in return.

And mixing drinks, of course.

Over the days that he had been working he had made it his quest to find a way to make the perfect martini. He’d already begun testing varying ratios of gin and vermouth, (and different ratios of French and Italian vermouth) and he’d tried garnishes of olives (with and without pimento) and garlic cloves, having discarded lemon as unworthy of a true martini. He’d even tried substituting olive juice for Vermouth, looking for a drier martini, which had gone over with some and not with others. He asked each guest what they thought, and had been taking notes.

It was something to occupy his mind.

He was debating in his head the merits of a stirred martini versus a shaken one and putting away the last of a batch of clean glasses when he happened to glance up and see the figure strolling so very casually into the bar.

Loki. Slightly thinner and paler than when Shadow had known him, and the close-cropped hair had been shaved off, but still unmistakably Loki, looking very much not as dead as he should have.

It would be impossible for Shadow to remember later everything that passed through his mind in that moment. His eyes saw Loki and two wolves but his mind could only see Laura’s face as it had looked when Shadow put his hand to Sweeny’s gold coin and pulled it from her neck. He realized dimly that the wolves were no threat to him, and would wonder later how he had known that, only to remember where he had seen them before and understand. He didn’t think about who could see them here, in this public place; there was no doubt or caution raised by a memory of what had happened the last time he had lost his temper like this and neither conscience nor fear of consequences had a moment to peek through the fury that suddenly blinded him. In a moment he had vaulted over the bar and thrown himself at Loki, knocking him back against the wall with all the strength in his arms.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, one arm across the god’s throat.