As he turns to pour more batter into the iron she swallows and quips: "Wow Lokes. Didn't know you had it in you. We should see what you can whip up for dinner."
"What're you craving?" he asks grinning still, perching back against the counter his arms crossed, sleeves unfairly rolled up showing off veiny, sinewy flesh that takes her a beat to look from, and mumble:
"I don't know."
"How about pot-roast?" She pulls a surprised face. She hadn't expected him to think up, such a homey dish – in fact, she can't recall when last she'd had this one. She smirks, honey-browns glinting, her tone playful:
"You sure? That's an advanced-level dish there." Loki gives her a sly look. Faced aside as did she at the new voice:
"You know," Thor's, who leaned against the archway smiling. "Loki often visited the kitchens when we were young. I used to catch him elbow-deep in flour and dough alongside the cooks. Grilda, especially." She sees an instant scowl furrow Loki's features, like this is something he doesn't want shared. Or doesn't want Thor specifically to speak of. She'll test the waters later to find out, curiosity piqued.
"I'm surprised you didn't run off to tell Odin-dearest," and there's why he scowls.
"Well considering we often snuck in at night I saw no reason to." Loki brushes him off, turning as the iron ticked to take out more waffles. He filled another plate, called:
"Barb, finish these," poured some syrup and moved on. Toni slid quick off her stool to catch up. Despite the gesture to storm off, she finds he still holds the lift for her, till she joins him, then pressed for his floor and the doors rolled shut.
"So who's Grilda?" she lightly asked, and was minorly surprised when Loki in fact responded, voice lacking harshness:
"A cook with no regard for propriety. She addressed me as though common, like no other in the palace dared," the lift stopped and they moved, towards his room as he spoke on and Toni listened, like she listens when he speaks like nothing's more important. Because when Loki decides to share a piece of his past, it is a rarity that she must value for its worth. These stories are spoken just for her. "She said, prince or not, I should know how to meet basic needs for myself. She was a very proficient cook. A strict mentor." Images in her mind draw a young boy in green in the mess of a crowded kitchen and an elderly woman telling him that in fact, is not how one shapes dough. She smiles, so fondly, wishing she could learn more, everything. When he tells her these things she feels closer to him than ever.
To quiet her restless heart she responds: "Bet you know lotta cool recipes." Loki's smirk is faint but he answers:
"Things you've never heard of."
"Well I'm open to try. I could stock the kitchen here, or any other floor," because she doesn't like when they're interrupted – she doesn't like when Loki's interrupted in the middle of something as miniscule yet as crucial as expressing a part of himself he's kept veiled. "You can play around and hey maybe teach me a thing or two." Again there's that smile he gives warm in a way and either her period's really amped up this month and amping up all emotion, or she's developing a serious crush for Loki.
She tells herself off as they enter his room and Loki settles top his bed and she settles beside him. He lifts the remote, pressed for the ceiling tv to descend and surfed Netflix before landing on a random episode of Friends. He then proceeded to fold the waffle up and take out a huge bite. Toni grins and looks away. She loves moments when he drops the coolness and lets himself go. Also if she looks long enough she might catch him lick syrup off those frustratingly long fingers and that's not a good idea right now. She lifts her waffle up in kind, focused on the tv. Swatting off memories of a similar setting from last night.