nexus_crossings | Loki: Worst Matchmaker Ever?

Loki: Worst Matchmaker Ever?

Loki has a peculiar way of preparing to speak: he does not clear his throat or straighten his clothes or loosen his collar, but merely takes long, slow strides into an open spot. There are no stages in the area of the Nexus in which he finds himself, but the way he stands and opens his arms--all grace and hubris--seems to make the flat plain ground around him into his personal catwalk, the diffuse light around him his own personal spotlight.

You may not take him seriously, but you'd be hard-pressed not to notice his presence.

"Nexus, if I may bend your collective ears for a moment? I have a simple, if heartfelt, request."

~~I would like to see if my big brother is capable of feeling embarrassment.~~

"I am the younger sibling of Thor Odinson, a man--nay, a god--of great power, courage, and nobility. There are few who equal him in battle, and until now I would say few who equal him in the realm of the heart. Alas, it seems that at this time in his life, events in our world have wounded his confidence greatly. I wish to build him back up, so to speak, but my best efforts thus far have fallen flat."

"Frankly, I feel that his alteration in hairstyle, clumsy and poorly-planned though it may be, suits the peculiar shape of his head far better than his previous, doll-like golden tresses. There is a certain simplicity to his change of outfit that matches with the simplicity characteristic of his thought patterns. A change for the better, certainly, and moreover it shows his true mettle, the way he has no fear of appearing as the leader and representative of our people with his cape tattered at the hem and unmended, as if he has of late escaped from the engine of our borrowed space vessel."

"Nexus, friends, what more can I tell him to restore his pride? You will find him nearby, I think, if you wish to get a look at him, or if he finds himself too shy to observe this conversation I am certainly capable of producing images to show what he looks like. All compliments directed at him will be accepted with gratitude, and perhaps one of you will even find it in your heart to court him, however temporarily. I cannot guarantee he will be amenable, as he is so very timid of late, but I think it would do his heart well to experience a flirtation once more."

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Goodness. He blinks, caught off-guard once again by her physical comfort with him. Loki is far from shy, but he does wear his clothing like armor, all snug leather wraps and tucks holding his body in. Whether he's trying to keep people out or keep something inside him in varies on any given day of the week, but he's not really used to cuddling, of late.

Not that he objects, either. His arm goes around her waist, confident it will be welcomed there. "You are very forward," he observes, and although it doesn't sound like encouragement, it doesn't sound like a critique, either. "I think you know what you desire and pursue it without apology. A rare quality."

He's seriously going to eat that ice cream before even thinking about canoodling, though--you get that right, Harley?

"You tried to kiss my brother first. You should know, I am no consolation prize. Most would say I am no prize whatsoever."

"Thank you." She will take his comment about her forwardness as a complement. That and the fact he considers it as a rare quality.

And don't worry Loki, sweets come first in Harley's mind too.

"I offered to kiss him. I didn't try." There is a clarification needed here.

She places a soft kiss on his forehead. "And it sounds to me you could use someone like me in your life. I ain't ever going to consider you a consolation prize. I ain't ever going to compare you to anyone."

His eyes drift closed at the kiss to his forehead. A strangely sweet gesture. Why he has captured her attention so fully, he is not yet certain, but she seems to mean what she says. Perhaps like calls to like. Perhaps she is a wild card in need of a wild card to match or surpass her.

There is something dark behind his eyes, but the irises are very green, a cool shade like the underside of an iceberg seen through ocean water. She is telling him exactly what he wants to hear, and he is too good at manipulation himself to fail to recognize the same incisive, ruthless charm in someone else. He breaks into a slow smile; it's not the most reassuring of expressions.

But she's right.

She's absolutely right. He needs someone like her in his life.

"I'm starting to like you very much, Harley," he almost purrs, and takes up a scoop of her ice cream with his spoon, offering it out to her.

"Good. Cause I figure you might need a place to stay... and you can bunk with me for a bit." Her apartment is starting to be a place where she welcomes in a lot of different people. But she doesn't mind.

She settles in his lap, lounged there like she belongs there. And wraps her mouth around the spoon, savoring the ice cream.

"If you wanna..."

They're getting a few glances from other patrons, some amused or approving, others slightly nervous, like they're concerned this is going to get to the point of obscenity if left to continue unchecked. Loki is not exactly above that kind of thing, and he's enjoying the attention, although he's not going to push his luck.

"I have a great deal of work to do," he tells her, compromising cuddle-position notwithstanding. "And I need far less rest than a human. But as a base of operations..."

Hm. He doesn't want to get tied to one spot in the Nexus, but a home he's welcome into is a much better place to build warding around than a hotel room or campsite. "Yes, very well. I accept your offer."

Cricket will be just a bit nonplussed. Loki is guaranteed to creep him out.

"Me too. For both things... having work to do. And needing less rest than most humans." Her biology allows her to be like the Energizer Bunny at times.

"Great." She kisses his cheek in appreciation.

She will make sure Cricket is soothed. Besides, one nice thing about living in the Nexus, is the fact that her apartment can change and adapt. She can modify things so Cricket has his own space. Loki has his. (Alec has his, when she takes him in). And Harley has hers.

[[ooc: Harley keeps on picking up 'strays' to stay with her. It is hilarious]

"Is that so? Your appearance is somewhat unusual for a human," he tells her, leans in to nuzzle her temple and murmurs: "I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course."

"But I was wondering if there was a reason for it. Perhaps you would feel comfortable explaining?" He's not going to press. Not yet. But he definitely needs to know what she's physically capable of, whether she tells him the reasons or not.

Cricket won't protest, of course. He already told her he respects her right to bring whoever she wants home; he's used to sharing space, anyway. But you can, if you're perceptive enough, kind of smell the crazy on Loki. Sometimes it smells like pheromones instead, that's all.

[[ooc: Hiya, welcome to Harley Quinn's Home for Wayward Boys!]]

"Thanks. I jumped into a vat of chemicals to look this great." She grins. And runs a finger through his hair.

"And thanks to my ex-girlfriend, I am faster, more agile, quicker, and heal better than most humans. I am what they call a muta-human in my world." She downplays what she is physically capable of... because that is one of her tricks. You get your enemy to under-estimate you, then surprise them with what you can do.

She is attracted to the smell of crazy. And if it is pheromones that he is using to attract her... he will be surprised to learn that the actual pheromones have no affect on her. She likes him because she just does.

Okay, that's not an explanation he was expecting, and--oops, he's not completely devoid of compassion, evidently, because the expression that flickers across his face is brimful of concern. It's not exactly gentle, but there's some real empathy there for a moment.

"How fortunate," he murmurs, "that you emerged intact. Did it hurt?"

Part of him is absolutely delighted that he's stumbled across a human woman with enhanced abilities. One who is interested in his company, no less. He is accustomed to evaluating his acquaintances based on what use they may be to him, but she's been generous with her affection already, and there is a small but real better nature within him. It hears this fragment of her backstory and processes it: this is a woman who has been profoundly hurt, whether in body or in mind.

It's not enough to waken his conscience to the point that he'll deprive himself of her company--he is poison, everyone is better off without him--but he shifts to offer her another bite of ice cream, and kisses her on the cheek in the process.

He can't promise not to make her life worse, when it comes down to it, but he can at least make an honest attempt not to run roughshod over her. And will.

"I sorta died. And came back to life." She answers to it hurting. She avoids remembering the pain.

She has a lifetime of pain to avoid thinking about.

And it is a good thing he is going to make an honest attempt not to run roughshod over her. Harley can handle herself if things get bad. But she deserves a little good in her life right now.

Harley accepts the offer of the ice cream. And when he kisses her on the cheek, she takes the opportunity to steal a real kiss from him. Her lips are cold from the ice cream. But he might not mind.

His eyes search hers for a moment, expression opaque, and then he gives her a wry, painful little smile. "Been there," he says. "Done that."

Near-death experiences, and right-on-the-money-death experiences have defined his life for the past several years, after all. It's not as much fun as it sounds like.

He closes his eyes and leans into the kiss, languidly receptive now that they've gotten to know one another a bit better, now that he's made a conscious decision to see where this goes. Her lips are pleasantly chilly and taste like honey and cream, and he takes his time with the kiss, sighing quietly after it breaks.

After the kiss breaks, Harley slides out of the booth and holds out a pale white hand to him. "Time to go see you new digs."

"We can bring the ice cream."

"We better had. I've only had one bite for myself yet." He's been too busy playfully doting on her to eat on his own.

He swallows the last of his coffee, takes her hand, and stands, scooping up his ice cream in his free hand. "It's very good. I appreciate the introduction to it."

"We will make sure you get more bites." Her eyes playfully sparkle.

"Imagine that. Me introducing something to you." She leads him out of the Cafe and through the Nexus to her apartment.

He follows patiently enough, nibbling on his snack as they go. He even idly laces his fingers between hers, swinging their hands together gently. Loki may be a damaged, untrustworthy individual, but he's apparently not so far gone he can't accept and savor a moment of peace.

"...I ought to warn you," he says at length, as they get close to her door. "I am a shapeshifter. You may come home and find me looking unlike myself at times."

Not that he shifts gratuitously, but he's decided that here, in the Nexus, the more forms he's comfortable in the better. Disguise is advantageous. He may as well practice.

She beams at him at the simple gesture of him holding her hand. He might be damaged -- but even that is a step up from her relationship with Joker.

"Will we need a password, so I don't try to stranger-danger attack you?"

"And can I request no creepy clowns?" She unlocks her door, letting him in.

Loki is more or less a villain and probably bad for everyone he comes into contact with, but even at that rate he's inevitably going to be a kinder paramour than Joker. He's certainly not going to deliberately abuse her.

It takes him a while to notice how pleased she looks, but once he does he's a little touched. Hand-holding and cuddling is really no effort at all; if that's all it takes to win a smile from her, they might be in for a better time than he dared hope.

"A password isn't a bad idea." He kind of wants to see what she'd do if she attacked him, actually, but it might be better for all concerned if they just spar sometime instead.

"I...have zero interest in clowns, creepy or otherwise. Request approved and noted in the record."

Inside, the first thing he notices are the silks hung from the high ceiling, and he breaks into an almost dazzled smile. It's a pretty tableau.

[[I can have Cricket there if you want a 3-character thread, but if not, you can assume he's out somewhere.]]

That is appropriate. Harley is still more or less a villain herself. Their relationship is going to be a rollercoaster on both sides.

"But Harlequinns are alright?" She winks at the play on words, that has a lot in common with her own name.

She notices him admiring the silks, and laughs. "Promise I will give you a show. I practice a lot."

[We can do that. Perhaps on a journal thread?]

"I'm not that well-versed in the commedia dell'arte," he says distractedly. He's aware her name is a play on words, but he's not thinking of it in light of the view he's seeing and the possibilities that occur. "But I do like a character with wit and cunning."

"It's charming," he tells her, refocusing on her. "You're an acrobat?"

[[Sure! Would you like to do the starter this time?]]

[Scene continues here]

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Loki: Worst Matchmaker Ever?

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