Author's note: As always, thank you so much for all your comments and feedback, people! :D
If there's one thing that Tony is good at, it's confusing him. Once he thinks he's gotten a decent grasp of the situation, the man says or does something that unsettles his already frequently rearranged world view, forcing it to break up and reshuffle once more. Like a jigsaw puzzle taken apart and then having some of its pieces exchanged, so that once it comes together again, the picture it shows is something different entirely.
It's just like that time when Tony promised he wouldn't hurt him, thereby voluntarily throwing away the best means he had of enforcing his slave's obedience and submission. And now, the man has willingly cut off the next best thing he could have dangled over Loki's head to make sure his behaviour would be in line with expectations, telling him that the highly desirable favour of going outside would be granted regardless of whether he had done anything to earn it or not.
Again, the man is making no sense. Why would a master give anything to a slave that they haven't proved themselves deserving of?
Before his inner eye, the illogical scene plays out again. He had been really worried there for a few disconcerting heartbeats as Tony had brought the subject up. Because he had been almost certain that it could only mean one thing, namely that the man was about to tell him that he had changed his mind about the arrangement. And there was certainly not a lack of possible reasons – maybe Tony didn't want to waste his time taking his slave outside, or perhaps he had just decided that the risk of an escape attempt was too high, or maybe he simply thought that Loki hadn't shown himself deserving enough to be granted any such.
Not that Tony would have needed to offer any explanation, of course, should he have decided to revoke the favour. It's not like masters have to explain themselves to their slaves in any way, but still.
Maybe it's that Midgardian sentiment again, that pity resurfacing once more, that has made Tony make such a decision. Or maybe it's something else, he really doesn't know.
He also isn't quite sure what would count as "blatantly stupid enough" for Tony to actually do decide to put a stop to the outings, but most everything Tony tells him is vague or unspecific anyway, and so many times he just has to guess what it is the man means or wants.
And it's strange, the way he's removing every incitement Loki has for obeying, almost as if Tony doesn't want him to behave and act like a slave is supposed to. Just like that time a couple of days ago when he had told Loki not to call him master, which should have been the normal and expected address, instead insisting that he use his name. An Asgardian slave presuming to address his master in such a familiar and blatantly disrespectful manner would of course have been punished harshly, no doubt about it. Well, not that any slave in Asgard would ever dream of doing such, but still.
Reflexively, his fingers go to the metal band around his wrist, something that they've already been doing more times than he can count despite him only having worn the thing for a few days. As much as he doesn't like wearing it – it's far too reminiscent of a shackle – it still serves as a welcome reminder that Tony is indeed planning to take him outside again.
Slowly, his fingers trail along the metal, tracing circles around it for the sense of comfort the action brings him, just like he's done on so many occasions before.
The only difference is that this time, he notices a very thin groove that he hasn't spotted before where the ends are connecting, so minute that it has escaped his detection until now. It's not even a hair's breadth wide, no more than a barely discernable faint crack in the material. So thin that it would take something extremely flat to stick it in between to pry the ends open. Of course, Tony isn't stupid, so naturally he would design a bracelet that would minimize the risk for tampering and removal.
He fiddles with the metal band for a little while longer, his fingers focusing on the minute groove intersecting the previously seemingly solid and cohesive material.
Even for a place like New York, no one can call the current weather anything but exceptionally shitty, the sky opening up to spew forth one of the most massive downpours he can ever remember experiencing. The rain is smattering against the window panes in a sharp clatter, sounding more like hail than water. Almost like another deluge is coming to town to drown the sins of humanity. Of which he is probably responsible for a good half.
Well, sitting up here in his tower, he'd be about the last person the heavens would get to with those outdated tactics, if that were to be the case. Still, it's kind of cosy with the rain pouring and the wind howling, while he's sitting all snug and warm and dry inside, blanket draped over his legs and computer perched on his lap and a cup of steaming coffee in his hands.
Just perfect.
And with everything that has happened lately, all the messes he's had to clean up, he can use some perfection, even if it's just something small like this. But perhaps things have actually calmed down for a while now; at least there hasn't been anything major looming on the horizon lately. Sure there's always Loki who is an unpredictable wild card and a seemingly never-ending source of potential problems, but maybe the worst is indeed over now.
Granted, every time that very thought has presumed to enter his head, it has soon been refuted by some other exploding issue that he never quite saw coming, but he supposes even with Loki, these things have to run out some time, right?
Well, at any rate, the god should be under sufficient surveillance now with the tracker around his wrist, and the thought makes him feel a little bit more comfortable about the situation. Whatever problems and issues might still be brewing, that little safety measures should at least prevent Loki from making any ill-advised escape attempts or anything of the sort, which should mean one problem less for him to worry about, whatever else will be coming.
He sneaks a peek at the god sitting at the other end of the couch, his long fingers picking at a magazine, unsystematically flipping through the pages, eyebrows slightly knitted.
Probably, they don't have magazines on Asgard, just those old, mouldy parchments. Still, he can imagine them coming with those fancy pictures like in Harry Potter, where the photos are moving, and now the guy's all confused why the people in the glossy snapshots aren't waving happily at him. Or something.
There's a cup of hot chocolate on the tabletop in front of the god, mostly empty by now. He did have Loki try some coffee just the other day, but it was obvious that he didn't like it one bit, not if his coughing and sputtering was anything to go by. The hot chocolate seems to work better, though. Probably something they don't have in Asgard either, but in Tony's humble opinion weather like this requires a hot drink of some kind, and if coffee won't work, then hot chocolate will be the next best thing.
Another gust of wind rattles the glass panes and his gaze moves from Loki to the window. "Shame about the weather," he says. "Or it would have been a perfect day to go for a walk in the park."
And damn if he can't see Loki perk up at that, his lazy, drifting focus suddenly snapping back to full attention. Like a cat when a can of tuna is being opened in the close vicinity. If he didn't know any better, he'd call that endearing.
"I take it you liked the park, huh?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, despite already knowing what the answer will be.
Loki's eyes hold his for a couple of seconds before he answers. "I did," he admits, adding a slow nod for emphasis.
"Well, it's a nice place if you don't count all those joggers. I'm sure we can go some other day, though, once the weather lets up." He takes another deep sip from his cup, enjoying the little tang of cognac he's spiced it up with. Not even coffee is so perfect that it can't be improved upon.
As he puts the cup down on the tabletop again, his gaze once more lands on the god in the couch. And he can see that Loki is actually looking sort of… happy? Well, whatever it is, Tony has to admit that he likes the look on the god.
It suits him, and makes him look…
And he resolutely pushes the rest of that thought away. Of course, his desire to bring Loki outside again has nothing whatsoever to do with that, it's merely because it's the Right Thing to do, and Tony is a decent guy who wouldn't let anyone, not even someone who once tried to conquer his planet, suffer all locked up without ever getting the basic human need of going outside fulfilled.
Clearly, Loki has been looking less glum these last few days, not quite as doomy and gloomy as before. Like there's a bit more colour in that pale face, having been upgraded to something that looks more human than vampire. So it's a practical solution, because having a god with a history of emotional unbalance coped up in his house is just like keeping a dog from going outside to relieve itself – it isn't a Very Good Idea and will inevitably lead to nastiness in one form or the other.
Of course, it doesn't have anything at all to do with that look on the god's face as Tony had taken him outside that he still recalls so vividly even now.
Much later, he's back in his room again, thinking he should probably get some sleep. Still, he remains perched on the edge of the bed instead of crawling down beneath the covers; right now he isn't in any mood for sleeping. Even if it's late and long since dark outside, he's not tired in the slightest, so he sits there listening to the patter of rain against glass, the sound oddly calming and soothing.
Once again, his hand goes up to the little tracker-containing bracelet circling his wrist. He runs a finger along the metal, smooth and cool against his skin, like a well-polished knife blade. Soon, it encounters the thin groove, undetected until just recently. But now that he knows where it is, it's not too difficult to find again.
For a while, he toys with the spider web-thin line in the metal, his finger nail trailing along its length. It produces a faint scraping sound against the hard material, just barely audible over the soft tap of raindrops, as it paints meandering flowing patterns across the bracelet.
Slowly, his gaze lifts to the window despite it showing nothing but darkness, his nail still scratching at the thin groove.
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