Loki wanted to uphold his usual I don’t care about anything or anyone mask. He really really did. But the truth was that he had a soft spot for animals. Always had. As a kid, he’d dragged all kinds of animals into the house and proclaimed them his pets. Snails, bugs, stray dogs and cats. Anything he could get his hands on.
As a result, the unimpressed arch of his eyebrow only lasted fifteen seconds, after which he crumbled.
“I’d tell you to get me the cat so I can pet it while we take it to the vet’s to ensure it’s okay and then help you write down a counter argument to every single point anybody could raise against us keeping it. And of course threaten to soak your bed with applejuice at an inconvenient time if you tell anybody about my part in this. Hypothetically, of course.”
Surprise briefly flashes across his features soon woven with little relief. As much as he liked to pretend that he was good on his own, there ARE circumstances he’d rather not deal with alone. Such as going to new public places with potentially too many people. His triggers are subtle these days, almost non-existent even, but still present in the back of his mind. (And he marvels how WELL he managed to deal with the loss of his arm in comparison with his PTSD.)
“Yeah, well, guess my current guest would not appreciate if you soak its fur with apple-juice, but I am gonna remember in case anyone will ask who else was involved.”
Who would have thought they are going to BOND over a kitten he rescued from the streets and kept warm in the small of his own room, a comfortable nest build with pillows and blankets where it currently mewls softly.
“I’ll call the vet and ask if we can swing by.”
