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[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.

[The laugh that tugs from Loki is a staccato little number, pleased enough to bring real crinkles to the corners of his eyes.]

The company would be far better outside of an office environment. Where it could really stretch its legs, hm?

[Oh, the crinkles are so soft. Mobius finds himself grinning like a doofus.]

Are you saying we should... relocate? [Hmm? There's a pointed look here.] ...Maybe?

Maybe.

[What a thing, to be smiled at like this. Loki finds his feet properly, fingers shaking for freedom to allow for a proper stretch.]

How far would we go?

As far are you want.

[Mobius is still smiling, his gaze occasionally drifting down to their hands. He plays with Loki's fingers, brushing his thumb against them, letting it travel across his knuckles. Always touching, never stopping. Smooth and languid.]

Ideally... we can go anywhere you want. I just need to fudge the paperwork a little.

[Then he looks up, right into Loki's eyes.]

How's that sound?

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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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