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I'm supposed to keep tabs on you, remember?
You need to know so I can know.

Is that how it's meant to work?

Is this remotely a good system?

I cheat the system whenever possible.
You should know that by now.

I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about.

[Neither of them cheat, clearly, including not by apparently materializing to lean against anyone's boring desk full of boring work.]

[Does Mobius jump? He jumps.]

You gotta quit doin' that or else they'll turn the dampers on again full throttle.

[Does Loki balk? Slightly, admittedly with something of a cranky cat lingering in the shoulders.]

What, even when returning to having tabs kept on me?

[He rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing his hands over his face.]

Yeah yeah. Even that. Look - you should be glad I managed to convince them to turn 'em down in the first place. You know how chaotic this place would be if everyone just kept blippin' in and out all the godsdamn time?

Comfortably chaotic.

[Which, well. Not everyone thrived to the same extent with the organic spiraling of the universe--but surely anyone who spent enough time around Loki(s) had to get some taste for it.

Still.] I do appreciate it.

Comfortably chaotic.

[He repeats this, thinking about it. And then he chuckles. Okay - you got him there.]

So don't abuse it alright? For me? [Mobius pouts, giving Loki the puppy eyes. He should be familiar with the look by now.]

[There's the comfortable tingle of being understood. That, more than the (admittedly very charming) pout, curls the Asgardian's lips back toward its habitual crooked smile.]

Some promises.

[Several steps above no promises, so.]

Aw Lokes - c'mon.

[He reaches out, gently taking hold of Loki's hand and giving it a brief squeeze. He doesn't let go. Still pouting, there's a gentle brush of thumb across knuckles.]

[Will the pleasant rush of sensation that came of being reached for ever really go away? He suspects not.]

I am who I am. [Still. After a beat, his own grip tightens--stays tight.] And I am trying.

And that's real great. Honest.

[He lifts Loki's hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckles instead. Then it's back to just - holding it. Letting his own be held in return. Enjoying the casual touch.]

The expectations of an office work environment are probably a little wacky when you're the god of mischief. I can only imagine.

[The contemplative tilt of his head is brief. He'll take 'mischief' over 'lies.' He'll take being gently held over tightly gripped. A nod to himself, the tangle of his own thoughts, and he sits up properly again (without letting go, of course).]

The expectations are a little wacky as a matter of course. Dress shoes alone are painfully ridiculous.

Even mine? [Still holding Loki's hand (because he'd never let go), Mobius scoots his chair back just enough to extend a leg, showing off his Chelsea boot and some of his sock.]

I always thought my little booties were pretty cool. And comfy.

I don't know about cool, per se.

[Not that there wasn't a certain patterning to Loki's own appearance in the style of the man before him. Even down to the shoes (although with a bit more of a proper heel, because he's not ridiculous).]

Serviceable, maybe?

Nah - they're cool. Admit it. [He lets his foot sway back and forth, showing off the boot.]

I like yours too y'know. This isn't a competition or anything. Just don't get how you can run with a heel.

[There's a real fondness in Loki's sigh, linked fingers squeezing just briefly tighter.]

They suit you. [Could be devastating, but comes across a bit more thoughtful than anything.] And a heel suits me.

[To match his brother's height? First of all, how dare you.]

Suits are hardly ideally designed for running, you know.

You look good in anything. Don't even hafta try. And I'm hardly designed for field work.

[Mobius chuckles.]

I'm so used to spendin' all my time behind a desk. This is the most action I've gotten since... [He sighs, racking his brain and coming up empty.] Can't even remember how long it's been.

[Of course there's a brief brow-quirk (because really, phrasing). It's followed, immediately, by the gentling of a genuinely thoughtful expression.]

It's better, isn't it?

[To be free, even if only from a desk?]

[Phrasing? What phrasing? Get your mind out of the gutter, Loki.]

What? Runnin' around like a chicken without its head? [He's frowning a bit, but the grin is back in record time.] Never felt younger.

Close enough.

[Speaking of close, it's nice being close enough--and lightly tangled enough--to lean and drop a thoughtless kiss against the man's knuckles.]

The stress keeps you young, you know.

[The slightest squint. So suspicious.]

Does it? Sure doesn't seem like it does...

[But that kiss! Oh it's just enough to get him flushed and flustered. Look how shy he's getting about it.]

Probably. [If he says it confidently enough, it might be true.] Something certainly seems to be.

[Or maybe it's the kisses? There's probably only one way to find out. Unfortunately, that way probably does require more stress.]

...I think it's the company, not the stress.

[He's already two steps ahead, Loki. Picking up what you're putting down. He's a bit of an expert here, and sometimes he likes to flex that.

Mobius flexes his fingers, giving Loki's hand a squeeze.]

That's just... my theory.

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50 years later with coffee sorry sorry hope you've been well bb ❤️

ilu ilu~~ :3

ilu!!

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