Loki looked up from his third glass of the sad excuse for beer the people from earth had in time to see the woman enter the bar. She walked like the feline species he had encountered the other day at a park, slowly and gracefully, with a slight hint of predator. He studied her for another second before turning back to his drink. Some humans may be physically beautiful, but they were so mortal and their beauty was temporary. This specimen may have half the bar captivated by her willowy curves and tawny curls, but Loki was not impressed by every display of beauty that came his way.
Perhaps that was why she came and sat by him.
She perched on the high bar stool to his left, waiting for him to notice her. A great deal of hair-flipping and shifting in her seat ensued before Loki shot a tight smile her way. She sent back a wide beam of rosy lips that lit up her tan face and uncovered a dimple on her left cheek. Loki braced himself from the onslaught of chatter that was undoubtedly coming his way. She didn't disappoint.
"Hi! I'm Tara! You mind if I sit here? I just came in and saw you all by yourself lookin' all lonely and I couldn't help myself! You from around here? You don't look it, if ya don't mind me sayin'. You're too pale for Nevada. I'm on holiday and I've spent the last week buildin' up some colour. What's your name?"
Loki weathered the barrage of chatter and waited a second just to check she was done before answering, "No, I'm….not from around here. I'm Loki." He thought about shaking hands, but thought it would be too much bother. He took another pull of beer.
Tara looked like she was going to explode with elation. "Ohmygod you're English! I just adore your accent! We must all sound like hicks, am I right? And Loki, what an unusual name!" she squealed. She caught the bartender as he made his way past. "A drink, please, for me and my friend, who's from England! I'll have a white wine and-" she cast a coy look at Loki, "Another one of whatever you're drinkin'."
Pushy little thing, thought Loki. "A whiskey on the rocks." He told the waiting bartender, who bustled off to get their order.
"You're a whiskey man!" chirped Tara, crinkling her small nose. "Can't stand the stuff, personally, but to each their own, I guess." She gave a pealing laugh, resting a hand lightly on Loki's arm. He nodded, wondering if she'd find it rude if he pulled away. Then he remembered he didn't really care if people found him rude, so he moved his arm in the pretence of taking another swig of beer. Urgh. It really was gross.
Tara, oblivious to his rebuff, was still talking.
"-in town with some girlfriends, ya'know, getting away from all the pressures for a week or two. I'm in an office for what feels like 24/7, getting orders barked at me an' constant paperwork, 'nuff to drive a girl insane!" she smiled at him, recrossing her legs. "What brings you to the ol' US of A?" Loki's mind shut down for a second at the abrupt change of topic.
"Ahhh- business." He said eventually. "I'm in…Banking." That earned him another nose-crinkle.
"Ugh, how dull." Tara said, fiddling with her purse, "All numbers and tax and stuff." She looked up, mortified for a second. "I didn't mean any offence! I just don' have a head for math. Ma daddy always said I was the beauty of the family, not the brains. That was ma brother, he went onto Harvard."
Did humans always have to chatter so much? Thankfully, at that point, Loki was saved by the arrival of the drinks. Tara squealed, and picked them off the tray.
"A toast!" she said, "to my British Banking friend! Hope you enjoy your time here in the States!" her wine was sloshing dangerously and Loki wondered exactly how many others she's had before she'd come here. He steadied her arm and she passed him his big crystal tumbler glass of whiskey. They clinked their glasses together a little clumsily before taking their drinks.
While Loki put down his glass, he surreptitiously studied Tara again. Her father was right; she was a beauty. He liked the slight glint of playfulness and mischief in her bright blue eyes. He looked away, reminding himself of mortal beauty. Fleeting and temporary, fleeting and temporary…
Tara was fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Not a big talker, are you? Probably because I'm chatting ya ears off. Ma daddy used to say I could talk all day and not get tired. He's right; tell me to shut up whenever!" she let out another peal of laughter and sipped at her wine.
Unfortunately, Loki was bought up believing that chivalry was important, so he couldn't tell her to shut up. However much he wanted to. Instead he took another drink of the whiskey, which was much better than the cheap beer he had abandoned on the counter. It was sending a pleasant hum of alcohol through his body.
He abruptly stood up, slipping off the barstool a little and wobbling when he got to the ground. "Whoa," Tara said, holding his elbow to steady him, "careful there."
"I'm going to get some air." Loki announced. It was hot at the bar. He drained his whiskey. Tara slipped down off her barstool a little more gracefully than he had managed. With them both standing, she looked quite tiny.
"There's a smoking veranda out back." She said. "That'll have some fresh air." They meandered their way through the tables, only a little bit unsteady. Tara had somehow threaded her arm through his and was hanging on like a tipsy debutante.
They reached the veranda and Loki gratefully breathed in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as you could get in a major city on Earth. It was still welcome in his lungs. He felt lightheaded and slightly confused. Alcohol didn't usually affect him this strongly. Granted, they didn't have whiskey in Asgard. He would have to take a crate back with him…
Tara led him over to a couple of chairs with a table between them near the rail of the veranda and deposited him on a chair before sitting down herself. She looked sympathetic. "Whiskey hit you hard?" she asked. "I'm a bit of a lightweight myself, too." Loki could see that. She was swaying a little in her chair. He phone bleeped and she fished it out her purse. She made a face, and then tapped at the buttons for a bit before putting it back. "My daddy's always worrying about me." She explained. "A grown woman of twenty-two who can't go anywhere without her ol' man checkin' up on her. I bet your parents are a bit less protective."
Loki remembered the time his father had exiled Thor to Earth and nodded his agreement. The movement sent his brain rolling around in his head. Something wasn't right, but he wasn't quite sure what. Then he noticed the big black van on the street below, out of which dozens of figures in black carting guns were streaming out of and into the bar below. S.H.I.E.L.D agents. He tried to get up off the chair, but only managed to half-slide out of it.
"Loki?" Tara was out of her chair and bending down to help him. "What's the matter?" Loki could see her face hovering over his. Actually, two of her face. And very blurry.
"Got to…get out of here." he managed. It was hard to breathe and talk, hard to even think.
"What?" her hazy image looked so confused. Black figures streamed out onto the balcony and surrounded them, aiming their guns directly at him, as he lay on the ground. Tara's face disappeared; had she got up, or had she been pulled off him? Suddenly it seemed very important that she be OK. Her face was replaced by Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He was grinning.
"Get him up and strap him down." Loki turned his spinning and swooping head and noticed a gurney trolley being pushed by two agents. "The drugs ought to keep him down for a good few hours, but we don't want to take any chances."
Drugs? Had the bartender…? Who…?
Loki was hoisted up and tied to the gurney (if he would have been properly awake he would have been mortified to be wheeled around in such an undignified manner). The last thing he saw before his mind relinquished control to the drugs was the lovely, delicate, treacherous Tara shaking hands with the Director as he was wheeled away.
A/N: Haven't written anything Avengers-related before, so please tell me what you think. Thanks! xxx