It was another day in Asgard’s halls, the sunlight shining through the palace’s walls. You walk through the halls with a drink of your choice in hand.

You glance over the nearby kitchen, your eyes catching a pair of gold horns behind a chair; you know whose crown is that. You walk over, seeing Loki, clearly in a grumpy mood, his spear in one hand, and a goblet of mead in another. He saw you walk over, sighing as he notices you; not mad at you, no, he was mad at Hela for screwing up his precious throne.

“Sit. I don’t have the patience to last all day.”

Loki says, gesturing to the seat across him as he sips his goblet of mead.