Imagine explaining to Loki that you descend from a long family line of esteemed winemakers who have always taken pride in their work.
“Come to think of it, you’ve never met them...”
They’ll be hurt that they haven’t met Loki, especially since your relationship is beginning to get serious, but better late than never, right?
Phone calls are placed and plans are made. You tell Loki your family would like to invite him over for dinner. “It’s not really a ‘party,’ per se, but a few extended family members will be there, and Dad’s wanting to debut the latest product.”
Hardly one to turn down wine, Loki is thrilled. He reminisces on the parties in Asgard, and the wine usually consumed there.
At dinner, Loki seems to get along with your family nicely.
The wine, however, doesn’t exactly share that sentiment.
You and your family discuss various grapes from all over the world, and how each has its own flavor.
Asgard is Asgard. They have Asgardian wine from Asgardian grapes. There’s nothing to it. It’s all the same. Either you like Asgardian wine, or you don’t. You can’t just pick out a different kind.
And it’s not nearly as strong as what your family likes to crank out.
Loki is halfway through his second glass, while you’re taking your time on your first.
You swirl the wind in your glass and take another sniff. “Mm... Bold. Is that raspberry?” Sip. “Dry. I like it. Figs... Oak...” Swirl. Sniff. Sip. Swish. Gargle. “Chocolate?”
A pair of green eyes slowly focuses on you. It clicks. That’s what you’re always mumbling about on your dates! You’re critiquing the wine!
Of course! Because they’re all different!
Loki wishes he had thought to ask about this before. Your family probably thinks he’s some gluttonous drunk who can’t control himself.
And he wouldn’t have pounded down nearly twice as much wine as everyone else.
“Well, Loki, you sure seem to be enjoying the red selection.”
“Y-Yes. Thank you.” He’d give anything to crawl under the table and hide.
Might as well finish the glass, at least. This time, he follows your lead. Swirl. Sniff. Sip. Slowly.
“You’re right about berries, dear. But I suspect this is blackberry, not raspberry.”
“As a matter of fact,” your father chimes in, “we used cranberries.”
Loki manages to pump the brakes just enough to maintain coherent conversation when asked about how you met, his own background (which gets answered with as little detail as possible), et cetera.
It’s quickly becoming too late for Loki to slow down much. As your mother explains why she chose this new sauce to go with this brand new wine, your dad refills Loki’s glass.
Again.
Before long, the wine starts to really kick Loki’s butt.
The room is spinning, and it feels like his stomach is about to, too. Loki can barely move, for fear he may slump over. Looks like his alcohol tolerance is way lower than he thought it was.
“Well, that’s it for our red wine tonight,” your father announces.
Loki breathes a sigh of relief. Now he can go home, throw up, and just sleep this off!
“Now it’s time to try our new white wine!”
