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[realitywarped]

[Loki's in his kitchen again, leaning against one of the freezers.]

Hello, assorted crew of the Moira! As I was very recently reminded, thank you Chara, I seem to have a severed head in my freezer. If you'd like to reclaim it, let me know.

[He shrugs at the camera like severed heads aren't all that weird- and maybe they aren't. He remembers being one, once or twice, after all.]

Ah, and if you're after low-tech weaponry, do let me know. With the station so very dull for exploring, I seem to have a little downtime. I believe the armoury can handle the more exotic options, but if it's just a sharp stabby implement you're after, I can manage those.

[Read: he isn't risking people seeing his medical profile again- or the blood overlay he's heard about in the prison wing.]

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[realitywarped]

[Loki has his doubts. Loki never dies honourably, after all, not without a scheme.

But this Thor is still young, still apparently has illusions about what Loki is capable of, and Loki... doesn't want to ruin that. Not yet. His other self can do that all by himself, he has no doubt.]

Then... I am sorry for your loss, Thor. Something I doubt few others said to you, frankly.

[He offers it softly, a moment of compassion for this not-brother, who he never hated to begin with and still can't hate now.]

But all the same, in my world, there must always be a Loki. Perhaps not the original, but- Loki, all the same.

[draperies]

[He gives a slow nod, appreciative. Few others have said that to him... others still have rejoiced. Hearing it from Loki himself-- he's not entirely certain how to feel about that.]

Then, tell me... how many Lokis have there been before you?

[realitywarped]

At least two. Perhaps more, given the endless cycles of Ragnarok. But... certainly one that everyone remembers. He made himself a little unpopular.

[The two is a slip, but... in some ways, it feels good to be honest. To acknowledge his child self existed, even if in only a fleeting and obscure way.]

[draperies]

You do have a talent for that, Loki, even in my own world.

[But there's almost a fond edge to his voice, lips quirking up slowly.]

Which are you?

[realitywarped]

Not that one, or at least I hope not.

[He shrugs, giving Thor a wry look. He hasn't even told his own brother yet that the old Loki and he are perhaps the same person, or perhaps not quite. Perhaps the ghost of his child self, the fragments of him that linger, the role Loki had taken from him and been trapped by just as much as any other tale- perhaps that's enough to make him someone else. He can hope, can't he?

Still, he's not telling his own brother, he's not telling this one, either.]

I can make myself unpopular all by myself, trust me.

[draperies]

I have yet to hear of any of your mischief... you mustn't be that unpopular on this ship, Loki.

[Which is a relief, honestly, even if he's wary of hoping that Loki isn't up to old tricks and deceit again.]

[realitywarped]

So far, at least. They make me work, Thor. It would be somewhat noticeable if I didn't turn up in the kitchen, and even more noticeable if my absence coincided with mischief.

[He pulls a face. He'd quite liked his role when there were only twenty or so crew, but these days, there's much less fun in bulk-cooking.]

[draperies]

We have all been given work to do, Loki.

[Although he can't say he's particularly pleased with his own job.]

Perhaps it isn't all so terrible, if it keeps you out of trouble.

[realitywarped]

But having a job makes me predictable, Thor. I'd as soon do something less... routine. Boredom is always an issue with gods of mischief, you know.

[Read: perhaps it's keeping him out of the smaller mischiefs, but one of these days he might have to do something big.]