Written to: Cath - Death Cab For Cutie, crosspost from AO3
Colposinquanonia: Judgment of a woman's attractiveness based on her chest.
"I have absolutely no interest in going to this fashion show of yours," Helblindi protests, even as Darcy pushes him out the door, the tickets to the Victoria's Secret Spring Fashion Show clutched in her hand.
"Nonsense. All guys love it," she exclaims as she pushes him down the stairs and hails a taxi. "You'll like it. There's lots of pretty girls there in underwear. You'll like it, trust me."
"You're the only girl I like," he begins to say, but his words are drowned out by the sharp noises of squealing brakes as a taxi squeezes itself between two sedans amidst much honking and pulls up to the curb in front of them. "You're the only girl I like in underwear," he grumbles even as she pushes him into the taxi and he folds himself into the cramped backseat, smelling of cigarettes and trying not to touch the sticky plastic covering over the seats, trying not to wonder what that red stain is on the floor.
"She's not even pretty," Helblindi complains, much to the consternation of the model in front of them. His voice could be quite piercing when he wanted it to be, and Helblindi, as the first in line to the Jotunheimr throne, had no qualms about voicing his opinions. He had already glared the people behind him into a quiet, subdued submission, when they had prodded him in the back and complained about how his height was interfering with their ability to photograph the models. He had turned around and given a look to them (one that Loki had seen and copied and perfected throughout his childhood years; it was now used quite frequently to cow Thor and Modi into frightful acquiescence to Loki's whims).
"Hush up, you're hurting her feelings," Darcy mutters, jabbing him in the ribs, but secretly feeling thrilled at his commentary.
Helblindi just rolls his eyes and allows the rest of the models to strut along the catwalk unscathed except for the fierce glare of his frosty eyes.
As they sit sipping at chai teas and nibbling at meringues after the show in a nearby cafe, Darcy asks him why he doesn't find the other girls pretty.
"They have big boobs," she points out. "Or if they're not big, at least they're nice. Perky." She squishes her fingers together in a honking motion, and Helblindi just rolls his eyes and pops another meringue into his mouth.
"So?" he asks. "You'd freeze those off in Jotunheimr in no time at all, and especially in those outfits they were wearing. Who wears trailing coats without chemises underneath? Barbarians, that's who."
Darcy rolls her eyes and laughs.
"And I still firmly hold by what I said earlier," he mutters through a mouthful of crumbs.
"Pardon?" she asks him. "What did you say earlier? I must have missed it."
Helblindi flushes scarlet, squeezes his fingers together and avoids Darcy's eye.
"Oh, come on," Darcy says, laughing some more. "Tell me! I command you."
"The audacity," Helblindi gasps, mocking. "A simple Midgardian telling a prince of Jotunheimr what to do. How dare you?" he says, but there is the hint of a smile around his mouth as he leans over and pinches her cheek.
As she cleans up the table and slips a five under her empty mug, he hails a taxi. She comes up beside him, slips her hand into his, and begs him to repeat what he had said.
"I said, you're the only girl I like," he tells her, and she smiles and hugs him. He continues, "Furthermore, you're the only girl I like in underwear," but his words are drowned out by the sound of squealing brakes yet again, and he only returns her hug, presses her into the cab, and tells her that he will tell her later.