fandomtownies | MHA Lobby, Friday

Current Mood: busy

Entry tags:

MHA Lobby, Friday

The residents of MHA would probably either notice or hear a bit of a ruckus down in the lobby today. That was because Loki had taken it upon himself to start decorating the lobby for the upcoming holidays. He wasn't particularly fond of turkey (too dry) or eggnog (unless it was laced with something) but he did like decorating.

Just a little bit.

Shut up.

Of course, he wasn't the best at decorating. In fact, he really fucking sucked at it. There was a strand of lights looped around his neck like a necklace, some twinkling, some burnt out.

"Fucking lights," he grumbled. "One fucking bulb blows and the whole entire thing is ruined."

There was a turkey (not a real one) hanging on one wall, stapled to said wall with heavy staples. There was garland taped to the desk with duct tape. There was wreaths gracing the walls (some missing some of their needles) and there was a candle burning, giving off the scent of Christmas cookies.

"Work you fucking pieces of shit!" Loki nearly yelled. The lights didn't respond. In the background, Christmas droned on.

[MHA is open! Rent a room, talk to Loki, boggle at the decorations! Look, if I can't escape holiday decorations, I'm going to go overboard!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Loki reached down and took her hand, tugging her gently (he could do gentle when he wanted to, really).

"You can blame me if you're late," he offered. "Make up some extravagant excuse about getting caught in Christmas lights because I'm a manic Santa wannabe."

He paused and grinned at her. "Or blame it on a huge fucking dog."

"One of those never did show up" Daisy noted, idly, as she grinned back; her hand was careful not to disturb Loki's bow as it settled easily on his shoulder and she tried to listen better for the music, which wasn't easy for her, as her head seemed to always have its own beat in its head which, for as much as she'd done things like this, she wasn't too terribly good with it, as the actual music rarely synced up to the music in her head. "I won't be late," she decided. "I just probably won't get to the burned bulb in that string of lights."

"I'll find that fucking bulb and tell it you really wanted to change it but you had to leave," he said, smiling. "Or I'll save it for you. You can help me decorate some more when you have some more time. If you'd like."

He hadn't been lying when he said he hadn't danced in awhile (Bartleby didn't take too kindly to pausing to dance) so he fumbled a bit with the hand placement on her waist.

"I had a few drinks this morning," he said, lying incredibly badly at the moment. "So I'm sort of wobbly."

Daisy well knew the difference between a drunken pawing and a nervous one, but she wasn't going to point it out, since she didn't much mind. Instead, she just laughed, said it was all right, and added, "That explains the decorating quite a bit. I wouldn't want to hold you back at all, so you just go ahead and change it, if you find it, and I can find something else to help with next time."

"Sounds good," he said and finally got his hand to settle the fuck down. He wasn't some damn teenager so the fumbling was irritating. "All right, think I'm good. You gonna lead, Detec--not on duty. Ma'am? Uh. Miss?"

[Fleeeing to second shot of work! Back soon!]

"Daisy's fine," she grinned, feeling extremely pleased by the catch and the attempt to fix it. Her relief at finally having something make a clear distinction between the two almost allowed her to work with the actual beat of the Christmas music for a moment or two. "But I thought the gentleman's supposed to lead?"

"The gentleman's trying to remember how to do this," he said apologetically and just finally looked down at his stupid feet. "Nice shoes."

Idle remarks made it easy to stall. And he kept staring at his shoes as he tried to get his long lost rhythm back.

"Oh, thank you," Daisy chuckled a little. "Standard issue policewomen's shoes, size seven and a half, but they are quite sharp, aren't they?"

"Very snazzy," he said, nodding. "If I were a woman and had smaller feet, I'd want a pair. As I am not a woman nor do I have small feet, I'll stick with what I have."

For all that he could talk, he was having a little trouble getting started with the dancing.

"No teasing if I step on your shoes," he said and actually did start to move. Slowly. And in stutter steps.

"They're tough shoes," Daisy said, as she started to move with Loki, at his pace, grinning a bit, "they can take it. Here was starting to worry maybe you couldn't move, there."

"Perfection takes time," he said, trying to keep up his cocky swagger whilst staring at his feet. "And I'm an excellent mover. And shaker. I'm just a little out of my element."

"Maybe you should start," Daisy shifted much more easily, hand light on Loki's shoulder, the other against his elbow, "by looking up. You use your feet to dance, sure, but you dance with your partner, not them."

"I knew that," he lied, wrenching his gaze away from his feet and looking up at her. "All a test. And I know you don't believe me but I have to say those things or I lose some macho privilege in the secret guy club."

He loosened up a bit, confident he wouldn't break any toes, at least.

"How do you know how to dance so well? Lessons?"

Daisy met Loki's lifted glance with a smile. "Much better," she said. "And I don't dance that well; I can't keep a beat with a song to save my life. No lessons, either. I just...dance. Too many people think about it too much, when, really, you just have to feel it out."

"You just dance," he repeated, processing that before nodding. "The last time I danced was...it's been a really long time. I spent the last several months with an idiot friend of mine who had delusions of grandeur about certain things. None of them included dancing."

It was easier to do this if he could distract himself.

"You apply that sort of philosophy to everything?" he asked. "Feeling but not overthinking. It's an interesting concept. One that great leaders of the fucking world can't seem to grasp. They're too busy thinking that they lose sigh of what their citizens want and end up being some cold, grey figurehead sitting perched upon a hill. It's just too fucking bad because the citizens revere them despite all that, despite all the letdown and the pain."

He took a quick look at his feet, just checking.

There was a faint smile at the look down that didn't slip Daisy's notice, a small thought about how Loki certainly liked to talk, didn't he, and then another that at least she could agree with what he said. "I try to," she said. "Everything else is too complicated as it is."

"You should have been a life coach," he said, pleased that his movements felt a little less stilted and a little smoother now, "instead of a cop. I'm sure you're a good fucking cop but if that's your philosophy, you would have been good for a lot of people I've met in my lifetime."

He quieted for a moment to focus on what he was doing so he wouldn't get too comfortable.

"And most people make things too complicated. The simple things in life should be fucking simple. When people are praying for solutions to problems that they can fix themselves but, for whatever fucking reason, are asking someone else to fix for them, then this world needs a wake up call."

He stopped, smiled and said, "You move really well."

"Thank you," Daisy smile again, "but, trust me, I couldn't have been anything other than a cop. It's all I've ever wanted to do. And, besides, as a life coach, isn't that all I'll be doing? Trying to tell people how to fix their own problems?"

"I'd say more advising them on the best course of action," he said after a moment spent thinking about it. "I'm not really up on job descriptions though. This job was sort of fucking handed to me with a smile and a nice kick in the ass."

God hadn't kicked him. Metatron had wanted to. Still.

"I've known a few cops before. One gave me a fucking ticket for loitering. I think I skipped town before paying it. Probably a warrant out for me...wherever the fuck that was. Don't use that against me, now."

"You don't seem to be doing too badly, though," Daisy observed. "Not many jobs involve dancing to Christmas music with a cop. And I've still got a few minutes until I'm on duty; you're fine as long as we keep all that out of the station and out of the island."

She might keep an eye on that loitering, though, lest it become a habit.

"That's probably a point in the good column," he admitted. "The dancing with a cop. Not something I expected to do."

Pause.

"Ever. You're really big on separation. Just an observation, not a judgment, by the way. The different names and the threat of your very own boot in my ass if I mixed them up."

"I'm used to having to keep them separate," Daisy admitted quietly, her fingers picking a little at the bow on Loki's shoulder. "I don't think I'll ever stop boggling over the fact that my coworkers ask me about my day when I come into the station."

"Makes you almost two, people, doesn't it?" he asked, glancing down at his shoulder and then at her. "If you were anyone else, doing any other job, I'd probably wonder why. I haven't been a cop, I will never be a cop but I can imagine why keeping those things separate might be a little helpful. Or, at least, a little less of a burden on you."

He hadn't kept his personal and professional live separate for so long that even wondering if he could anymore was met by a quick, resounding squishing of that idea.

"Maybe it's this fucking island," he said quietly. "It's a little weird, if you haven't noticed. The people are a little different. Maybe it's got some magic sauce that it sprinkles on you when you cross its city limits."

Edited 2008-11-15 04:10 (UTC)

"I think I might have notice that," Daisy said with a little bit of a laugh. "First thing I encountered here was not so much a splash of anything, just a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police way south of his jurisdiction. A bit odd, sure, but I'd hardly jump tot the conclusion that they're the harbingers of an unusually friendly populous."

There was a slight pause.

"Although, on second thought, you know how those Canadians are..."

"Doesn't sound so different from my first taste of the population," he said. "Several students who probably come up to my knee, one teacher with a hamster, and and Biff who really has no designation or label. He's just Biff."

He shrugged, tapped his fingers against her waist just to make sure they weren't asleep or something.

"And you've talked to me a few times, know how I am," he continued, "and I was just that way to all those people and they hung around. I'm not the most pleasant guy so being tolerated by people is kind of fucking weird for me."

MHA Lobby, Friday

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!

Re: Talk to Loki!