open | nine ways till sunday

[icasm]

WHO: Loki, Erik, Adrasteia & y'all
WHAT: Catch-all
WHEN: Late Solace / Early August
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Language warning for Erik, otherwise nothing yet. Open starters in comments.

Comments

[bouchonne]

It is better, yes. Yet there's little indication on Byerly's face regarding how Loki is doing. His face remains fixed in its usual expression of faint irony.

"In my experience," he says, "the powerful make poor diplomats."

[icasm]

"Then perhaps it is for the best that I am not as powerful as I once was." Loki takes another sip of his drink and considers the glass and its contents. "Provost Stark, I'm sure, would gladly tell you a horror story of how I attempted to overtake his home with the help of well-armored friends, if you wish for more direct reasons why you shouldn't take me on. But I am good at what I set my mind to."

[bouchonne]

"Hm." He swirls the glass. "I suppose I'll need proof of that."

[icasm]

"What sort of proof?" And of which, that's the real question.

[bouchonne]

"The only proof worth anything," he says. "The proof of good work, done consistently over a long period of time."

He considers a moment. "I may have just the work for you to prove that diligence."

[icasm]

Loki squints a little. This sounds like it could be good but also like it could be terrible, honestly.

It depends entirely on the work.

"Okay..."

[bouchonne]

And Byerly smiles, his expression utterly, tranquilly unreadable.

"All right. You're dismissed."

[icasm]

Loki raises his eyebrows, drains his glass, and sets it on the desk next to Byerly's.

"Thank you for the drink."

He's just gonna. Leave. Then.