Surprise jerk.

[selfimage]

WHO: The residents of house #007 and some asshole named Loki.
WHERE: House #007!
WHEN: For real time says February 13th.
WHAT: Chilling, milling, a little bit of illing.
WARNINGS: If I said "none," would you believe me?

If anything was so dull as the word boundaries, Loki wasn't quite sure he would even decide to spare it the thought. Later, when something duller managed to weasel its way among thoughtful comparisons, he may decide to reconsider. At least, that's what he told himself as he made himself at home among the belongings of his new flatmates.

His few days spent upon his arrival had been anything but dull. His life was now full of unintended detours, kidnap-y type multiverse travel and the whole kit n' caboodle, as they say. It was disorienting but unsurprising. As they discussed his arrival and his new duties, he scanned his mind for those he had crossed in his recent, er, three incarnations and wondered absently if this wasn't tied to some horrifically convoluted plan of revenge. It wouldn't be the first time. Best to be prepared for that kind of thing! His first two days were spent sleeplessly (because when you're a god, you don't need to entirely devote your time to such things) and curiously poking around the city and charming the locals. The revengeness was certainly on the low scale. Parts of his file that he had been handed had already been dealt with before he even decided to set foot within his new residence. A new universe and a new Loki.

Refreshing.

Loki helps himself to whatever's in the refrigerator, rifling things back and forth and looking for anything questionable. The door is wide open, the light on, and he doesn't seem to care whether or not he's lending to spoilage of just about everything that may be in there. His rummaging is punctured by his own snappy comments to himself. "Oh, is that swiss?" "Now that's a science experiment gone wrong." "Mayo! I've hardly the appropriate exclamation for my joy!"

Who is he and how did he get in? Ah, well ... funny story ...

Comments

[toolongdidntrejoice]

Given the sudden burst of new faces on the network, it's easy to tell that a new wave of imPorts have arrived. How many is hard to tell, and Kirei assumes the government will round them all up again soon enough to make it obvious. There is the matter of the extra room in their housing, which has not been filled, and that is why he does not immediately startle when he hears the presence in the kitchen.

The male voice means it's not Danger or Rin, and it's certainly not Doctor Gideon. Curious, Kirei comes forward, and he arches a brow. "I would not expect a thief to be so noisy," he says abruptly, wondering if the man will startle. His history as an Executor means he can move very silently -- he wonders if this man is enough of a 'Hero' to have heard him anyway.

"Will you be our fifth companion then?"

[selfimage]

So, his little stunt attracted some attention. Mission accomplished.

"Are those your expectations of a thief then? My intentions may still be, ah, 'up in the air,' as they say." He accompanies his words with a flippant wave of his hand. Versatility was always key, one that the strict control of his former incarnation (and this one, which he found himself stubbornly refusing as he had already set his sights on differentiating himself). A god of chaos with the inclination toward control always made for the most desperate kind of failures.

He puts his finger in someone's food and doesn't even care. Then he puts it in his mouth and looks thoughtful.

"But if we're to get straight to the point, then yes. I'm your new roomie." That sounded so curiously like a title of a movie he'd heard before. "Shall we dive right into the exchange of introductions and pleasantries? You know, 'nice to meet you' and all that."

[toolongdidntrejoice]

The man doesn't startle, which is a promising sign. Kirei keeps his good humor, stepping forward a few paces. "My expectations are for a thief to be a bit more cautious," he replies. "After all, if the rules of this place are to be believed, this is a home full of Heroes. It is not a wise place to steal from."

The man is certainly dressed like one would expect from a Hero, although the demeanor does not match. Curious indeed.

"I suppose we should, shouldn't we?" Kirei agrees, and he dips forward into a bow. "Father Kirei Kotomine."

[selfimage]

He even seems amiable to the approach. Sneakiness definitely in his portfolio, and he wasn't about to hide it. From his perspective, the best way to lie was to be sketchily open as possible. With a few play on words every now and then.

"Maybe I'm just feeling reckless in my pursuit of salsa. You know what they say about how things taste so much better with a little hard work." It was some kind of mortal saying that he adapted from somewhere. "Some thieves don't do things for the pay-off, they do it for the thrill. 'Wise' isn't really well considered in that case."

Oh, there it is. Salsa! He digs for it, rather theatrically, and looks pleased with himself upon its retrieval.

"I'm Loki, a pleasure, Father. Do people really call you that?"

[toolongdidntrejoice]

"They do call me that, if they wish," he answers easily enough. "Some do it because they share the same religions, others do not but feel some moral obligation to treat a man of the cloth with authority. Guilt, I'd imagine, is the highest motivator."

Kirei moves to the kitchen table instead, sweeping his coat from behind him as he takes a seat.

"Is your salsa sufficiently 'thrilling', Loki?"

[selfimage]

"Like a party ready awaiting my presence," there's a cheeky smile as he heads smoothly across the kitchen in search of chips. He seemed to have little care what anyone thought of his food endeavors.

He was hungry, he wanted snacks.

"Kirei, then, I'd rather go a bit more casual. Father, well, it's a bit ..." Aside from reminding him of Odin? "It's one of those monotheistic titles, isn't it? We don't exactly get a long. After a few stolen holidays and some unfavorable cultural misunderstandings that ended in the realm of the unpleasant. You understand, I'm sure." He's rummaging through cabinet before he brightens. That was chips! He helps himself.

[toolongdidntrejoice]

"Then you truly are what your moniker implies," he concludes. It's no shock to Kirei; his world involves the resurrected spirits of ancient heroes past -- and he has spent the last ten years of his life living with Gilgamesh, the oldest hero ever known. The concept of a Norse God walking about is very common in comparison.

Kirei rests his elbows on the table, fingers knitting together as he watches Loki move about.

"This is very minor mischief," he adds, almost thoughtfully.

[heartlessglitch]

If there was something Danger took seriously now that she was sharing living space with other sentient beings, it was her own boundaries. She was private by nature, and a lack of social conditioning left her a little stiff in her demeanor, whether she was in her armored mechanical form or her softer, more vulnerable human-like body. At least in flesh and bone, there was something slightly more approachable to her-- something about that passive face that was just a bit more readable, a bit more open.

The look on her face as she enters the kitchen is notably skeptical, eyebrows drawing together as her mouth turns down into a frown. She doesn't immediately recognize the person rifling through their refrigerator, which really only allows one of two likely possibilities: either he is an intruder, or this is their final housemate.

"I suggest you identify yourself before myself or other residents decide to deem you hostile," she greets him rather pointedly. "Additionally, if you are going to help yourself to our provisions, I might recommend tactfully avoiding anything resembling tofu."

[selfimage]

It was also something that Loki seemed to take flippantly. It wasn't as if he hadn't the pleasure of meeting the stiffest kinds of people in his excursions across Nine Realms. And this? Well, no offense to anyone, but seemed more like a detour. One he intended on taking full advantage of, regardless.

(There were some underlying consequences of the actions of those who had brought him here that he still found his thoughts returning. Did they care who they pulled? Were they looking for some kind of dichotomy as balance for their new heroes? They'd be disappointed, complete with sparkle text.)

Ah, the unanswered questions he asked himself during his ice-box search for the salsa.

"Suggestion considered and tofu tactfully avoided," he says, sounding pleased. Finding the plastic container with the salsa, he uses his hip to shut finally shut the refrigerator door behind him. "Hello."

What a curious roomie.

[heartlessglitch]

She gives him a pointed once-over, gauging him openly when he turns to shut the refrigerator. There are elements she might have recognized, bits and pieces that fit with information in the databanks she possesses while in her robotic body, but this incarnation in particular is foreign to her. She has, after all, been trapped away from home for nearly two years now.

"Hello," she responds at length, her greeting clearly less enthused-- not, of course, that she really seems like the type that is really ever excited about anything. "I will extend you the courtesy of an introduction. My name is Danger."

[selfimage]

Loki quirks his head back, brushes his hair to the side and almost seems to ... pose? for the look over. (For the lack of a ... better term, perhaps.) To those who were more sensitive, his density gave him quite the presence. It gave his voice depth and his motions (no matter how casual) an interesting relationship with the reality surrounding him. Of course to the mortals it was some quantum blah blah blah, to him it was just the way that gods were.

The lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to bother him, and actually, didn't even seem to dampen his own.

"Courtesy accepted, Danger. I am Loki. Is there anything I should know? We are roomies now."

[heartlessglitch]

Loki. She does know that name. They'd never met-- not if this was the Loki of her home universe-- but while she'd been the slave program of Charles Xavier, she had accumulated an unparalleled database of known super-powered individuals. A being so powerful would inevitably be on file. Still, the dissimilarities remain. She can't be certain without asking, so.

"Acknowledged," she finally answers, continuing to eye him in that scrutinizing way of hers. "Before I answer your inquiry, I have one of my own. Are you familiar with the X-Men?"

[selfimage]

Then let's try something new. He waves his free hand before moving to loosen the plastic cap. He seems casual.

"Familiar, yes, but who isn't? They're prevalent in many worlds that I've been to."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but not entirely something that he could be pinned down on. It was true that he knew of them, and it was true that they resonated through many worlds, and it was also true that he held a party in some of their honor (the younger ones who were able to attend, anyway).

"I take it that you're familiar with me."

[heartlessglitch]

"To a point," she agrees readily, still openly gauging him with her eyes as she speaks, "In serving my previous functions, I had accumulated a great deal of data pertaining to any significant individuals with superpowers in our home universe. Naturally, you fall into that category."

In her robotic container, Danger possesses an impressive database in her computerized mind-- most of which is dedicated to the strengths and weaknesses of known mutants, though anyone that might be even tangentially relevant was not excluded. Charles Xavier was a meticulous man, and as his creation-- his "daughter"-- Danger had been thoroughly programmed to seek and retain that kind of information.

"Admittedly, however, you are different than my existing knowledge would have suggested."

[enabeled]

If there's anything amiss about a stranger rummaging through the fridge, it doesn't seem to bother Abel Gideon. He strolls past the kitchen quite comfortably, stopping only when he hears a voice he can't identify.

For all the things going on in his mind, hearing voices isn't where his problem lays. Not yet, but he still has to make sure. He stands in the doorway, watching Loki help himself with an expression of very restrained curiosity.

"Don't know who did the shopping last," he says after a couple of moments. "So you might not find all you're looking for. Sorry 'bout that."

Though his shrug is not wholly apologetic. He tilts his head and decides to introduce himself.

"Dr. Abel Gideon, by the way. And you are?"

[selfimage]

"Loki."

An apology, was it? A not-too-sincere one. (Being the master of them, himself.) Loki straightens his posture and slips an arm over the door of the open fridge, leaning on it casually like he'd already claimed the residence as anywhere that could be said to be "home" to an Asgardian.

"A pleasure, Doctor. Do you go by Doctor? It makes you sound quite dignified."

Funny what the little edition of a title could do to the opinions of many mortals.

[enabeled]

"Well I can, if that's what you prefer. Doesn't bother me," Gideon says agreeably. He moves into the kitchen, passing Loki so that he can get himself a bottle of water from the open fridge. If he has any argument to Loki being there, he doesn't voice it.

"Loki as in the god?" He inquires, non-judgmentally. It's not necessarily his assumption that Loki's name means he is the god -- such things aren't so where Gideon comes from, no matter how open his mind may be. "Speaking of dignified. Or... ambitious. It may not be dignity that either of our namesakes bring to mind."

[selfimage]

Something that may have been an insult if he wasn't Loki. Where his former incarnation would've jumped a half mile into the air with an plan of mortal destruction at ready for what could have been seen as a slight, Loki just sort of shrugs his shoulders and offers some semblance of a pleasant smile.

"The same. The name carries many connotations, depending on who's telling the story. You know of me?" he asks, continuing his dig through the refrigerator. He finally emerges again with a brighten expression and a plastic tub full of salsa.

[enabeled]

"Not specifically," Gideon says, sitting down at the kitchen table and twisting the top from his water bottle, his eyes never moving from Loki in the process. His eyebrow raises, but that's all. "As far as I know," he adds in acknowledgement.

He takes a drink and exhales with quiet contentment, thirst moderately quenched.

"Is the question to ask, to which Loki am I speaking?"

[selfimage]

Ah, everyone. Always so suspicious. But really who could blame them? (Who could blame the Asgardians, who, through countless trials always managed to point the fighter right at him time and time again?) He meets his gaze casually, taking the spot across the table from him carelessly.

"The one that sits in front of you, of course. Myth is so convoluted that not even the gods remember what's what anymore. Have you ever gaze at a mountain through the fog? Much like that without the promise of a ski holiday."

[enabeled]

However bizarre it sounds it seems to make sense to Gideon, who tilts his head and then, after a moment, nods in what might be understanding. A semblance of such, perhaps.

"Ah, yes. If not mountains, I'm still somewhat familiar with fog. Makes for the most picturesque views that you can never quite grasp in detail." He looks across the table at Loki with a casual but wary curiosity. "You seem quite comfortable, here on Earth," he adds in observation.

[gandere]

Funny story?

Is it as amusing as a young woman slipping into the kitchen unaware of the other presence with several yellow sticky notes along her fingers. While most of them have been folded over to keep their contents secret, the name 'Kirei' scribbled across the top of them indicate another member of the house he's possibly run into already, the more concerning parts of the message involve gruesome threats of death and murder. Childish antics aside, she pauses when she sees the new person in the kitchen and quickly hides her hands behind her back.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't someone be serving you as a guest to the house? Who is your host, I'll have words with them."

[selfimage]

Loki's eyes go to the notes briefly, but don't linger enough for more than a peek. He wouldn't want to give himself away with observation one of his greatest weapons (okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration, words were certainly up there as his greatest weapon). He returns to his rummaging before finding the salsa and closing the refrigerator door with a thunk using his hip.

He manages a convincing vapid look at her sudden line of questioning.

"Upon your insistence, perhaps. There are always words with yourself to be had. A bit awkward, if I, erm, may comment on it."

[gandere]

"I'm not going to be the one to serve you."

A huff as she shakes her hands free of notes. Letting them fall to the counter without a second thought, her gaze narrows towards him in thought, studying every bit about him. There's nothing familiar about him and the house did have a fifth room.

"You'll have to ask one of the actual adults who live here. There's a doctor, a priest, and a robot."

What a typical teenager.

[selfimage]

Among other things.

"Brushing aside the responsibility of being a hospitable guest, I see," but his tone could be light enough to be taken for teasing.

"Which of those three would the note be for? I assume I can count myself out, as we've just met." He takes it in stride. Next order of business was chips, and he heads out into the yonder cabinets to find some.