thisavrou | (no subject)

[Have a possibly familiar face- although for those who haven't seen this particular Loki before, his face is marked with a scar under his left eye, looking rather like a 7. If he looks a little grim, try not to worry about it too much.]

For those of you who have miraculously escaped any knowledge of any iteration of me, my name is Loki, Norse god of any number of things. Also, apparently, head chef of this journey to nowhere- for now.

[He waves at the camera, getting a little more into character, smiling crookedly, sounding off-hand. And yes... Loki does like the sound of his own voice. Particularly when he's grouchy and a little concerned.]

For a number of reasons- including safety in numbers, it being much warmer in here with the ovens on, the fact the captains see it fit to keep sending kitchen staff to me who think penne is a mispelt item of coinage, and if I'm counting right it was my birthday yesterday- if you want to come down to the kitchens, I'll be here all day. If you want to attempt to learn a little baking, I intend to make myself a cake and perhaps teach a few other people in the process.

[He shrugs, one eyebrow up, indicates the kitchen behind him.]

There'll also be coffee on almost constantly, so you're welcome to that, too. I do make very good coffee- although really, you owe master Kaplan for this one.

[He pans the camera to a pile of boxes on a counter, tone turning mildly irritated.]

-Ah, and if you have any idea what groats are, past an ancient term for currency no longer in use, you can come collect them as soon as you can.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wait, you have groats?

Well-volunteered, mister Vorkosigan! No, I don't. You are now the proud owner of ten boxes of groats, collectable at your earliest convenience- or inconvenience for that matter. Also, I believe this book may be yours, but I haven't quite finished reading it yet.

[Covering for lingering awkwardness with pre-emptive irritation? Would he do a thing like that?]

Ten boxes? Where the hell did you -- never mind. I think I know.

[ thanks, ingress. miles blows out his breath. somehow, loki's behavior doesn't surprise him, given that he's pretty sure the other man -- god, whatever -- has been avoiding him since their stint in the morgue. well, miles can't really blame him. ]

All right, fine -- I'll pick them up on my next kitchen shift. [ then his look goes totally quizzical. ] What book?

[Avoidance is Loki's first method of coping.

Loki holds up that book, a bookmark sticking up somewhere in the last third. Very deliberately, he points to the name of the author.]

It shows a little more forethought than you usually do, so I'd assume a different Vorkosigan, but I doubt there's too many people with that name around.

[ when loki holds up the book for miles to see, a lot of things happen on miles' face.

ghastly surprise, first -- snake was the one who had turned up the book, wasn't he? unless there's more than one copy on board. then a look of dismay coupled with one of deep unease, his face gone slightly pale, and then, finally, his gaze goes flat wit simmering irritation. that offhand remark unknowingly deals a sucker punch to his pride -- or maybe knowingly, it's loki. he doesn't know. ]

A different Vorkosigan, yes. [ his voice is clipped. ] You can keep it, it isn't mine.

[Ah, now that's the emotional array of someone who knows this book all too well. Someone, perhaps, with an emotional stake in the author. Certainly Loki's little "accidental" jab seems to have hit a very sore spot, and he inclines his head slightly, looking entirely innocently curious.]

Someone you know, then? A relative, perhaps?

[ miles briefly contemplates the merits of hanging up the video call right now, but that would mean defeat -- and he knows loki's playing a game with him. he's come to expect that much, at least.

the smile miles gives him in return is strained. ]

My father.