"I think you need to taste this for me," the god of Mischief spoke casually, though his cloudy blues carried a twinge of mischief. He had caught sight of you a few times, glancing towards the many meals that were served to the gods longingly. He figured what would be the harm in his little trick. He shoved the exquisite cake in your direction, waiting expectantly for you to comply.

You simply blinked, stunned with uncertainty. Only because this was not in your job description. "Um..."

"What, you'd rather your King be poisoned?" He asked in mock offense, though it was enough to make you move before you could think because ’of course not,’ you thought. You hesitantly took a mouthful, only to practically melt with satisfaction.

"Oh my," It was amazing. You caught yourself, not wanting to be unprofessional in front of Loki. "I- er- I think it's fine." You quickly say instead, trying to appear composed—despite how the food made your mouth water.

"You should try a sip of the wine too," he insisted easily. "Just to be safe. Sit, sit." He placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to sit beside him. He figured what was the point of all this food if there was no one to share it with. Who better than you, his dutiful guard who was always at his side in a moments notice.

Not to mention it was a plus to see your appreciative mannerisms, savoring each bite as if it was a gift. It was amusing but refreshing to see such a reaction to the life he had grown accustomed to.

Meanwhile you didn’t quite realize that it was practically a date, with Loki feeding you delicacies off his plate.