Quite literally just five minutes into taking a break, going off to grab some more sugar for tea, and actually getting a gift for the boy he was tasked with watching. Doctor Strange found himself at odds with something even stranger than his own name, as he passed in through the door. The bag he was holding immediately dropped, and gloved hands already working their way into producing something whip-like. It’s golden self wrapped around the monster, while he simultaneously opened a portal and whisked the damn beast away with one swoop.
Sighs. Tries to gather himself enough so as to not yell, but that was just barely contained as he stomped forward with carefully chosen words that were absolutely not filled with bristling anger.
“Just what in the hell were you doing?! You could have gotten yourself killed, you know that?! Even for a Godling, that is possible! Actually, quite possible for someone not used to his own skills, and in need of great training to hone all of that in!?! I was gone for not that long of a stretch, and you’re already back to trying to destroy something like New York again, are you??! Seriously, Loki?! What were you THINKING!!”
| @princeoftrickery |
He had the perfect one-liner, ready to go. It was so perfect that even Tony would have approved, even despite how little he seemed to approve of Loki’s general existence in any form. After all, the set-up was almost comical: ‘I go away for five minutes, and you summon a transdimensional beast into my living room!’. Comedy gold.
Of course Loki felt bad, he had done something he shouldn’t have. He had made a mess of things, and of course the deepest trouble was the last to surface. He had breached Strange’s trust, something hard to gain as anyone, let alone as the God of Mischief. But the boy could have handled all of it, and probably with a good degree of snark and/or sass, had it not been for that one single comment. One he had heard from almost every mouth that had cursed him thus far (which was a lot of mouths, by the way).
His mouth gaped open, then shut as his gaze dropped to his feet. It wasn’t me, that wasn’t me! He thought it desperately, and yet Loki knew what everyone thought when they heard it. More excuses, more lies from the lie-smith. No one would ever trust him completely, that was becoming more apparent with each passing day on Midgard. The boy swallowed hard, but his eyes stung and his vision blurred and he was determined to show only the top of his head to Strange (maybe he could make a run for it?)
His voice was a pathetic waver, and he couldn’t manage another word because ugh he was crying in front of mister important sorcerer that Thor had begged to take Loki under his wing for a bit, just until things simmered down in Asgard. And just like every other arrangement, it was only a reminder of how poorly he was regarded in either realm.
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