Hungry like the Wolf || Closed
@smokingkiltwearingwolf
Loki had been starving for quite some time now, and honestly, he had landed in a smaller city it felt like. He had told Heimdall to take him somewhere new and the bastard had sent him here of all places. What a joke. The prince was wearing a rather unhappy frown as he wandered down the street. His hands were in his pockets as green eyes scanned for something to eat. He was not dressed in the attire for useless traveling-- sandals were so not comfortable. And the jeans he had opted for this time were making him sweltering hot to the point where he had used sedir to done himself a tank top and his hair pulled into a low ponytail at least. His eyes finally landed upon a sign with a mug on it. A bar would suit him at this point, so he crossed the small street without care and was soon inside.
Inside the bar, there was a lot of noise from drunkards and some shitty music being played in the corner. The Jotun could feel a headache coming as he settled himself into a seat at the bar. He ordered something of “their higher swill” and the first thing his eyes landed on from the menu. Something called nachos with everything on it. It would suit the man just fine, and the Jotun was going to gladly take his wine glass and survey the lot he had decided to join.
There was all the usual sort he would find in a place like this, but his eyes were drawn to a rather large and imposing man. The Midgardian had to be even a foot over Loki’s own imposing figure. The thought brought a sigh to his lips as he intently inspected the giant and the odd outfit he was wearing. Even for Midgard standards, or what he knew, he wasn’t sure that was typical. People here were even pickier than he was in most terms. Not to mention the wild mane of hair that was sprouting from his head; Norns, this man looked rugged as hell.
Perhaps he better just nurse his drink for the time being.
