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“We’d have gotten further,” says Loki, his mouth twisting, “if Thor hadn’t decided to conduct our business with his hammer.”
Thor snorts into his mead. “Fine talk,” he says, only a little slurred, “for someone who’s nowhere to be found when there’s rumor of fighting.” A hand slaps Loki heavily on the back, sloshing him with drink. Hardly Thor’s full strength; it will leave a bruise. Loki offers a grin, sharp and lightning-fast.
“Loki was ever a womanish god,” laughs Njord, drinking horn extended. The other gods chortle around him.
Loki says nothing, but her eyes are sword-edged and hard.