Waking up the next afternoon, eyes blurred and dry, Kari had a magnificent hangover that seemed to be residing mostly in her stomach. Groaning, she kicked the knotted covers off and stumbled onto the cold floor pausing to hold back a prison break from her innards. She needed to get to the bathroom and quickly before she made a post-asgardian ale mess all over the place.

The communal washroom had been empty when she finally made her way within – the perfect time for a long, soul-scrubbing soak in a tub. The warm water was really nice, soothing the general ache and turmoil throughout mind and body. Her thoughts wandered around without rhyme or reason, pausing at peculiar stops and retrieving pieces of conversation for sorting. Kari frowned as she recalled something she hadn't taken notice of the night before – had Sif really said Thor had taken an interest in her? In what way? They were discussing romance so…

"Oh god." She ducked under the water as if drowning was the only way to escape such a cringe worthy turn of events. She shouldn't have flashed him in the training yard.

Breaking out from the surface of the water, she gasped for air having held her breath a little longer than was necessary. There was no point in wallowing anymore; she was starting to get pruny and who knew where her thoughts would lead her to next.

She got out of the tub, searching for her towel before trekking back toward her room and ignoring the way a passing asgardian followed her with his eyes. There wasn't usually any men hanging around the servants quarters, most males that worked within the palace residing in the barracks or private rooms, so she'd never thought twice about just walking through the corridor in nothing but a towel before. The way he was looking at her certainly made her think twice about it now, though it was amusing when he walked into a suit of armor and collapsed under its weight. She shouldn't have laughed, it was cruel and he looked so shamefully embarrassed but what was done was done, she thought as she slipped back into her room for clothes.

Another day off to do what she wanted. What did she want to do? Throwing on a pair of grey leggings and a green tunic, she began wondering about the rest of her conversation with Sif – the bit before Thor. Heimdall, she practically swooned on the spot at the thought of his pretty eyes. His sister had suggested continuing to try but she needed an excuse to go visit him, one besides the lame excuse from yesterday.

Looking in the mirror, trying to sort out her damp curly hair into something other than a mess, an idea came to mind. She recalled packing a few art supplies before leaving earth, another of her whims from a left over pile of birthday presents she'd received years ago. At some point in her life, probably closer to pre-pubescence, she vaguely recalled receiving gold stars on several occasions for her 'imaginative' pictures of multi-coloured stuff that may or may not have been various animals. It had been something she thought about a few times over the years, getting back to drawing as it had probably been the only class at school she hadn't out right failed.

It was worth a shot, two birds, one stone. Dragging her case out from under the bed, she searched the compartment on the side for a sketchpad, pencils and oil pastels – they'd do for drawing that amazing view from the bifrost. Items under arm, Kari, trekked down to Heimdall's lookout, he hardly seemed to notice her upon arrival but that had been expected. He was watching a different spot from yesterday, a great big swirling blue patch with freaky looking black bits. She inhaled, exhaled her dislike of the area as it gave her the creeps for some unknown reason.

"You really like looking at the view, huh?" She grinned at the golden guardian, he saying absolutely nothing and so she took a seat on the ground placing her items around her. "Sif says you're her brother?" She continued trying to make small talk. "You don't seem very alike though. I mean… she talks a lot more and… is a woman." Ok that was a stupid thing to say.

Suddenly mortified of her own, running away mouth, she decided to stop talking for the moment and instead concentrate on her art. How did this all work again? Pick a spot and drawn, she thought, searching the sky for a nice bit of starry, colour-filled wonder. Focusing on a pinkish-red nebula, Kari opened up the first page of the sketchpad and plucked up a wine coloured pastel from the pack. It really wasn't as easy as she remembered it being, her lip getting a brutal chewing as she tried desperately to work the colours into something pseudo-nebula-esk.

"What are you doing?" The low rumbling voice startled her into dropping the pad into her lap.

"Oh, uh… trying to, you know… draw the scenery." She waved a haphazard arm toward her point of interest.

"That is midgard." He was staring at the mess of colours, upside down, on her lap.

"It is?" She tilted her head one way and then the other trying to figure out how he was seeing her home world in possibly the worse piece of art she'd ever seen in her life. "Well that's good to know, I thought it was just a really bad mess."

He went silent again, his gaze returned to the stars and possibly now looking at midgard if her calculations were right. Maybe he knew what was going on back home? She should probably ask him but… damn did he have pretty eyes.

Flipping the page in her book over, she placed the pastels back in their pack and this time selected a pencil. He was standing so still, his expression a perfect mirror of stony wonder – or so she liked to think. He was so close and yet so far away; her hand started to react to her line of sight, a head forming on the page, a nose, his mouth - those eyes. She was biting her lip again, but this time it wasn't in concentration; Heimdall captured in graphite was flowing out of her fingertips with such ease she found herself lost sketching him one after the other with steady improvement. It wasn't until he spoke again that she even realized he was looking at her once more.

"It is late." He commented; his eyes focused on her as if for once seeing nothing else around him. "You should return."

"But I just got here?" She gave him a confused look.

"You arrived hours ago." He gave a short burst of laughter, it was like music to her ears that made her blush a bashful crimson until disappointed when he turned to watch the universe.

She closed her sketchpad, collecting up her things and stood stiff and sore from having sat on the ground so long. Now she thought about it, she was pretty hungry; perhaps it had been hours as he said. With a shy farewell, Kari turned on her heels and began the long trek across the bridge and back to the palace. Oh, that had been a fun day and a wonderful excuse to spend time with Heimdall.

Entering her room, she giggled at a miss mash of thoughts involving the guardian and placed her art supplies on her bed. An idea had occurred to her as she searched her room for something sticky but in the end resorting to pins in order to post her Heimdall sketches on her wall. It was the beginning of a beautiful wall collage - a reasonable alternative when unable to buy posters or take super secret photos of her hearts desire.

As she pulled away to admire the images, there was a curt 'meow' from the open window that shocked her from her reverie. Griffin stared at her, a knowing look flashing across his gaze as he washed his face. She scowled at the cat, 'tuting' at his opinion and rolled her eyes putting her things away.

"It's not like that." She remarked." Don't give me that look. It's just a harmless crush."

Griffin paused his cleaning, tongue sticking out between his teeth as he blinked his confusion at her. What had he said to make her so upset? She looked up at him, sticking her own tongue out in a rude gesture and followed it with a pulled face. He mewed softly his accusation, which only made her roll her eyes.

"I'm not lying." She retorted to her feline husband. "I'm going to get some dinner, why don't you come and see your fancy women?"

She moved towards the door, Griffin pouncing down from the windowsill with an excited response. She couldn't help but laugh at the way their communication seemed to work, scratching the tabby-terror behind an ear before walking out into the corridor.