[ Loki is late. He spends twenty minutes scrubbing off the smell of the witch he slept with and dozing under warm water before deigning to get dressed, and then he finds something in his desk-of-drawers that gives him pause.
It's the hoodie that Billy gifted him months ago, galaxies in green moving across the surface as he turns it over in his hands. Some festival or other about cherishing loved ones, showing that with presents ...
That's what he wears over his jeans when he leaves the house, hair damply curling in a starry collar. ]
The walk isn't far.
[ Because teleporting is just getting excessive at this point. ]
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It's the hoodie that Billy gifted him months ago, galaxies in green moving across the surface as he turns it over in his hands. Some festival or other about cherishing loved ones, showing that with presents ...
That's what he wears over his jeans when he leaves the house, hair damply curling in a starry collar. ]
The walk isn't far.
[ Because teleporting is just getting excessive at this point. ]