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[rehandle]

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OurPowers contact available at: Dr. Stephen Strange (public/business)
Instagram/Twitter contact available at: strangemagic (personal/stealth account)
Implant contact available at: stephen.strange (meadowlark craus only)

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[rehandle]

[ Another, longer pause. But there's nothing for it. He does at least have the good grace to look sorry, to stop the growing peels from twisting in the air. ]

You showed me what was wrong.

[ All of it. Or at least everything left swirling around in his head amongst the daze of the drink. ]

[ikols]

... What? What was wrong?

[ A scoff and he gives him a You Are Crazy, Sir look. ]

I am perfectly fine, thank you. I was drunk, yes, so I don't think anything I said can be held against me in a court of Midgard.

[rehandle]

[ He's started now. It would be nice to laugh along and shrug it off and never speak about it again (except for the inevitable day when any of it becomes keenly relevant, maybe after enough time's passed that it doesn't matter or maybe that the passing time makes the news of it stick in sore as a ragged splinter) - but he's committed to it.

So, again, this time with heavy emphasis on the key point: ]

You showed me.

[ And then, because forcing the conversation to last any longer than it needs to is about as unfair as having cause to start it in the first place: ]

We don't have to discuss it. I thought you ought to know.

[ikols]

Showed you what?

[ Annoyance seeps in, largely because he was upset about a lot and none of it linear. ]

I ... You know what, as the God of Lies I give you permission to lie to me by omission, I don't need to know what you saw. If you're fine, I'm fine.

[rehandle]

[ ... It doesn't really feel like a solution. Stephen's mouth tweaks down into something frustrated, pinch of his brow just shy of concerned— and then smoothes out, back into neutral.

No, fine. Fine. Short of retelling it all in its detail, a muddy (sharp, each memory kept crystalline save for the places they blurred into the next or evaded Stephen's complete contextual understanding) wash of all the things Loki has to feel bad about, what's he going to do?

The floating citrus drop down into his hand as even Stephen's neutrality is wiped clear by a cartoonishly obvious shift in expression. A you're right, what am I yammering on for face that's accompanied by a deep inhale and an abandoning of his seat. The kitchen won't clean itself! (It will, but it's a decent excuse to excuse himself from the table at least.) ]

Fine, yeah. - If you want coffee when you're clean there's a spot in town that does a great espresso.

[ikols]

[ He's done something and he can't remember what it is, what he showed Stephen to make him all twitchy beneath that appeasing, slightly saccharine smile Loki gets, and despite the agreement to keep quiet it bothers him. It clearly bothers Stephen.

Another mouthful of bacon-croissant as he thinks and Loki decides that while baring more of his soul isn't the best idea, honesty can't really hurt things any more than it has at this point (however it happened). He also wants to stay the kind of person that could be a good friend, one who is invited out for coffee because he's liked and not out of sheer manners.

Stephen starts tidying and Loki keeps eating as if distracted to at least let a level of ease remain. ]

It's because I trust you. That was why I called, last night. [ Mmm, juice. Makes food and lies easier to swallow. ] Last time I got wasted I made the mistake of believing Stark would help, but he ... Things are different to how they were back home. He gave me a pep talk via text that I read in the morning, which was nice of him inasmuch as I didn't think he would respond at all, but it was a bad night.

[ He gestures with his utensils in a shrug beside his plate. ]

You would come. I felt sure of it and I was right. I am sorry to have been an inconvenience to you, if what I ... showed you was awful.

[rehandle]

[ — Oh, god, how did they get here? The dishbrush scrubbing at a frying pan almost drops down into the sink as he's distracted by the topic shift, Stephen refocusing his spell at the last second to keep at bay any obvious sounds of a splash and stuffing a segment of fruit into his mouth to act casual as the morning's pot and pans get back to scrubbing themselves clean. He manages to keep his back turned through some of it, busy with tucking away the paper bag that houses a couple more croissants and putting away a few things from an earlier breakfast, but that takes only seconds and pretty quickly it feels too obvious that he's avoiding eye contact.

So he turns to lean back against the counter, drying his hands and eyeing Loki with measured inscrutability. Ultimately though, the last thing Loki says earns a bemused quirk of mouth. That's the take? Sorry if I inconvenienced you with all the worst parts of my life? ]

It wasn't an inconvenience. You offered, I accepted.

[ There's a very real possibility a few of the jumbled memories will feature in some very unpleasant dreamscapes, but that's whatever. His dreams haven't been sweet for years. ]

I just don't want it to come as a surprise to you when you tell me any upsetting detail about your life and I forget to look shocked. I won't be.

[ Is it callous to state that without also apologising for the things he now knows? Maybe. But there's too much of it to go into, and this conversation has already gone far enough off his anticipated track to derail whatever preparedness he might have had to react appropriately. Flippancy is an easy fallback, especially now Loki's proved equally dismissive in his fondness for the word fine. ]

[ikols]

[ His lips twitch and Loki gives a wry smile, bringing his empty plate over to the sink to let it float around with the others. He leans back on the counter, head tipped toward Stephen. ]

You know, you wouldn't believe the amount of times I get asked if I let a horse fuck me. Now that is an example of someone knowing an uncomfortable amount about you!

[ Tossing his hair back on a laugh, he grins. ]

It bothers me none that you know things about me, Stephen. You are not, I think, a chatterbox.

[ Although he makes a show of looking him up and down with exaggerated suspicion! ]