By far the longest chapter. What do you think so far? My OC is a spaz, because everyone loves a spaz. Loki seem authentic enough for yous? I had a pretty bland day today, so send me some love.

6

The delivery in South Dutton was somewhere near the school, I was told. I drove on, clearing the intersections with ease. The office traffic had rolled in and out between five and seven o'clock and the roads were emptying. If Loki was pleased by this, he did not show it. He simply stared out of his window, the wind toying with his raven-hair. In the pulsating light of the street that was whizzing by, he looked almost angelic. Jerk.

"Number twenty-nine," I muttered to myself, slowing down at the turn where a large board read Palace Street, pointing down a long and winding row of houses. I rolled the truck in. It was four past nine. If anyone asks, you were on daylight savings. Yeah, that would work if I was an hour early. Oh, right.

As I drove further down Palace Street, the houses stood silently, few and far between. I stopped outside No. 29.

"This can't be right," I said, hearing Loki shift around in his seat so he could see past me to the eerie looking villa on the left, encased by tall yew bushes. None of the lights were on in any of the floors. The house looked abandoned. But it couldn't have been. Not only because a delivery was expected here, but under the plate on the seven-foot high iron gate, there was a small camera and intercom. I had a bad feeling about this place. But then again, I had a deranged god in the passenger seat too. What could possibly go wrong?

"Good thing I have a Norse God on my side," I said, studying the darkened façade.
Loki snorted, "You're on your own."
I glowered at him and went around the truck to heave the package into my arms. It felt heaviest as I stood by the gate while the camera scanned me. The intercom crackled.
"Yes?" A husky female voice asked.
"Um, Riverside Deliveries," I said querulously. "Delivery."
Ooh, smooth. Shut up, brain.
The gate swung forward with a wail. I turned to glance at Loki. He was enjoying my terror thoroughly. I would spit in his soup, when we got back.
I walked up to the front door and looked around for a doorbell, but the door clicked and opened before I could act. A tall woman with a stern but beautiful face emerged from within the dark of the house. She pulled the clipboard off the top of the package, and signed it.
"Where should I put the-" I began.
"Carl," she said without looking up. A stocky man appeared beside her, pulling the package from me. He waddled away into the dark and the woman handed the clipboard back to me, then shut the door.

I sighed and turned around, walking back to the gate.
"Fine, whatever, it's not like I was looking for small talk or anything." I grumbled. Truth be told, I hated small talk. But I did enjoy making eye contact. It made me feel substantial, sad as this was. There was an unnecessary amount of eye-contact waiting for me in the truck.
"Horrifying, wasn't it?" Loki grinned.
"Up yours!" I was most definitely spitting in his soup tonight.
"I beg your pardon?"
I slapped my forehead, "THE SOUP."
He blinked at me.
"I never took it off the stove!" I told him. "The house must've burnt down."
Loki laughed, "Fortunately I took into account your utter lack of observation. I turned your miniscule furnace off."
I looked at him incredulously, "Um, thanks I guess."
"Now we're getting somewhere. But the soup's burnt; I'm not going to touch it. Not that it looked appetizing to begin with."
"I'm going to have to agree with you there," I said quietly, scanning the roads of South Dutton as we drove by a number of shops on the main. "Hang on, I have a better idea."

I passed the deli and a bistro and a number of other little restaurants that were open late and the principle contributors to South Dutton's limited though existing night life. In Riverside everything wound down by supper and there wasn't much to do wandering about in the dark hills anyway, unless you were an astronomer or ecological researcher or poet, I suppose. It was impossible to find a place to park and I ended up halting some twenty-odd cars away from the joint I intended on going to.

I battled my way out of the door for the umpteenth time that day and beckoned Loki.
"What are you doing, now?" He asked.
"Just get out of the damn, truck, Loki."
He studied my face a moment. How many people ever spoke to him that way, I wondered. The minute he stepped out onto the street he was an attraction. Even cars slowed down for a better look (once almost causing a mini traffic jam).
Someone shouted, "Hey look, it's that theatre dude from the afternoon! Hey dude!"
I hurried Loki down the walk, "This isn't your palace, keep up and don't knock anyone over."
He didn't like being told what to do and deliberately resisted me when I tried pulling him along.
Some girls across the street had pulled out their camera-phones.
"Oh for heaven's sake." I grimaced and then a thought struck me. "Loki, come with me."
I led him quickly down the walk and pushed open the glass door of the only costume shop in town. The white-haired man behind the counter was wearing an eye-patch and fiddling with a stuffed parrot while he listened to the game on the radio.
"Paton!" He smiled as we entered, "Good to see you."
"Hi, Alex, I'm meant to come in earlier with that tie replacement, but I really need the hugest favour from you. My friend here's party hopping and he needs a new outfit. I was wondering if you still had the one I borrowed."
"Sure do," Alex whistled after studying Loki's costume. "But I'm gonna have to keep his get up till you return it. With the tie, of course. Collateral, you understand, right?"
"Yes," I said.
"No," Loki shook his head. "I cannot part with these."
I turned sharply to him, "Trust me. I'll get them back for you."
So you're playing out the part of the dutiful servant now are you?

It must have been my expression because Loki acceded.
Alex went to the back and retrieved the suit. I carried it to the other end of the shop, "Come on, I'll show you the changing room."
Loki followed quietly and I hung the suit up on the hooks, while he surveyed himself in the mirror.
"Try it on, then," I said, feeling around for my wallet. "Should fit you just right."
I set aside a few bills I would need later and counted out the remainder of my salary from the last month. Maybe I could pay Alex and Loki could keep his outrageous costume. How are you going to carry that around? It's metal plating and layers of leather. Hmm, that would be a problem.
I turned, "Loki, I'm waiting in the fr-"
The armour and the top half of his costume had been left on the ground and he was holding up the white collared shirt to his bare torso. I gasped, not at the divine proportion of his body, but the large welts and bruises across his pale skin. It made perfect sense of course – the sheer impact of his fall combined with his heavy garments and the force of my truck.
"Loki, you're hurt! I told you we should've gone to the hospital!"
"We've discussed this," he said, buttoning up the shirt.
"But-"
"It will heal. I'm immortal, remember?" He smirked at me.
True enough. I went out to the front to wait, looking through the various props on display. There were witch-hats and brooms and false claws and fangs and silly masks. There was even a whole shelf full of curious looking round objects. Alex caught me looking. He pulled one off and picked at a switch on the top. It glowed blue at its core.
"Works on suction," Alex explained. "Course you could tape it too. Look just like Iron Man. That Tony Stark really knows how to cash in on everything."
"Stark?" I asked, vaguely recalling the name. "Billionaire guy with the suit?"
"The very same," Alex beamed, then leaned across the table and asked me in a conspiratorial voice, "So who's the tall fella? Got yourself a boyfriend at last?"
I flushed and shook my head, "No, he's an unhinged other-worldly being who loves to watch me suffer and I am currently running all manner of errands for him."
"What?" Alex's smile vanished.
"College mate," I lied.
Loki reappeared fully dressed in a black jacket and trousers. He had kept his odd buckled boots, but it was barely noticeable.
"Well, well, well," Alex nodded, "Looking sharp there, Mr – uh?"
"Hansen," I said quickly, "from-" yes, Paton? From where? "Svalbard."
"Svalbard?" Both men said in unison and Alex turned quickly to Loki, with a sigh of, "you don't say?"
Loki glanced at me then nodded, "Yes. Svalbard is too warm this time of year. I like it better here."
"You sound like an Englishman to me, mate."
"Raised in Riverside," Loki said casually.
God of Lies, indeed.
We left the costume shop and I added to him, "Expertly handled."
"Not too shoddy yourself."
I picked off stray threads from other costumes that were clinging onto his jacket, muttering "Thank god for, Alex."
"I didn't like him so much. He reminded me of someone disagreeable."