The Aesir of Asgard

“That would be nice,” Sarah answered softly, a smile spreading her red lips thin over her teeth, “but I ain’t got time for that today. I’m on the clock too, you know.” 

She leaned away from Sergio, obviously pleased with herself. If she didn’t think Ben would form his own search party if she didn’t come back exactly when planned then this might have been a momentarily pleasant distraction. 

“Here,” she took the matchbook from her pocket and a pen, scribbling on the back of it. “Call me sometime. We can talk about it again then.” 

She held the matchbook out to Sergio.

Sergio blinked at her as she pulled away despite her smile. He was about to complain his disappointment when she offered the matchbook with her number. With a recovering smile, he took up the book and set a light kiss to its edge, keeping his eyes on her as he did.

“Slim Robbie,” she asked, eyes wide. Sarah didn’t move, letting Sergio lean in close. He wasn’t so bad looking; another day and she might even have allowed herself the distraction for a little while longer…maybe she still would…

“You sure? That’s just what Linda would have always wanted, a connection with a guy like that.” But that meant that it was as Sarah had suspected, provided that it was Linda, and that she had absconded with the person that Sergio thought. 

Sarah looked up at Sergio through her eyelashes prettily, glancing at his mouth briefly as she inclined her face. 

“Sure as you got gams,” Sergio said. He removed the cigarette from his mouth completely now, letting it ash down low beside them. “I see all sorts of things working the elevator here. Could show you some of them too,” he lingered the offer close as he nearly brushed his nose against hers with how close they were leaning together.

Sarah leaned against the wall, facing him fully, searching his face. He seemed to be being honest. 

“Who do you think he was?” Sarah rested her arm against her hip. 

Sergio followed her lead and came in closer with his lean, smelling the mixture of her perfume in the smoke she blew. “Well, I didn’t take a photograph or nothing,” he kept his voice low, rather hoping to draw her in a little closer, “but it seemed to me that I’d seen that suit on at the concierge’s desk, listing the name under Armistead.”

“Oh? You know the name attached to that suit?” She raised her eyebrows, taking another drag on her own cigarette. The blue smoke crept in tendrils up toward the high flown cerulean of the sky where it peaked between the narrow opening between the buildings. 

“Linda didn’t come home last night. We’ve been worried about her.”

“She was definitely going with him somewhere--they called up the valet on the way out and she looked to be going with him.”

“Well, my friends wouldn’t have been in their dance wear,” she laughed, waving her hand as though she believed it terribly air-headed, not mentioning it before.

Sarah took another drag on the cigarette, humming appreciatively. It was nicer than her brand. She wondered where Sergio got the tobacco from. She would have to make a note to ask him later, when there were less pressing issues at hand. 

“No. They would have been dressed regular. They aren’t that tall, both of em are Latinas. One with bottle blonde hair the other with copper.”

“Copper?” Sergio tilted his head with a recollection. “I saw a little pelirrojo number leaving Miguel’s elevator pretty late on into my first shift. She was an arm and a leg up on a pretty expensive suit.”

“Hm? You know…I think I have a friend who was at that one, now that I dwell on it a little…” She said then, brow wrinkling as though in thought. “It was for the pictures executives right?”

“She’s a show girl, so she and her sister went so that they could schmooze a little. They want to be on the silver screen instead of small time on the stage. Big dreams.” She shook her head as though she thought it impractical.

“I didn’t see any showgirls,” Sergio exhaled with some disappointment. “Some pretty locals got dolled up--or at least it looked like it, but who knows now? Could have been showgirls, school girls--looks the same now.”

Sarah ducked her head at the brush of his lips over her knuckles, pretending to hide a smile. 

“It’s very nice to meet you Sergio,” she answered primly. “So what else can you tell me about this place? Are there a lot of parties?”

“None that’ll let us in except afterward to clean them up,” Sergio huffed with a puff of his cigarette. “Mostly the penthouse parties and I think they check your income statements at the door.”

Sarah forced herself to giggle, wishing not for the first time that she could flush at will. He was flirting, as she had hoped. She fluttered her eyelashes at Sergio prettily.

“Paolo not Martha,” she repeated, as though committing it to memory. “I’m Sarah by the way.” The detective offered out her hand to shake in greeting.

“Well, you’ve got that right,” she answered with an easy laugh. Sarah leaned against the wall once again, taking her own drag as she considered how to pursue her line of questioning. 

“I’d like to though. You know what a girl can do to be considered for a position? I’ve been trying to work my courage up to apply but I’m afraid I’m just a nervous wreck. My ma would never forgive me if I applied for another service position and didn’t get it.” 

Sergio watched her lean, tracking her motion against the wall and then downward past the edge of her coat to her legs. 

lightofthenine:

Sergio took off his cap and immediately searched the lining. His break would end in another 10 minutes, which would give him just enough time to step out for a smoke, dust off the ash, and hop back in to the lobby for his shift on the elevator. He wound through the kitchen and the backways to find the exit, all the while tucking his fingers into the hole in his cap’s hem. About three left, he noted.

The door out to the trashbins was heavy and required him to shoulder it aside, so when it swung wide, his back remained to the street as he came down the few steps. He pulled out a thin sheet of rolling paper and a small tin and set about rolling up his cigarette.

He was about halfway done licking the edge to seal it before he turned enough to notice the girl standing on the other side of the door.

He blinked, not recognising her. “Cigarrillo?” he pinched off the end and offered it to her. She was pretty, he determined, and he had enough shag to make at least two more.

Sarah stood by her lonesome for some time in the alleyway, leaning against the wall casually after Ben had left her at her prompting. She’d nearly convinced herself to try and get through the door into the building before her first mark finally exited through it and into the outside air, fishing in the brim of his black and red cap.

Smiling lopsidedly at him she reached out, nodding at him. “Gracias.”

She bit the end of the roll between her teeth and reached into her pocket for her matches, striking one to light up before handing the booklet out to him between her index in middle fingers. 

“You work here,” she asked casually, leaning a little toward him as she addressed him. “It’s a pretty swanky place. Must be real nice.”

Sergio nodded as he pulled out another sheet and a wad of shag to roll in it. “I do,” he answered, “but you don’t.”

“Agreed.” Sarah smiled disarmingly at Ben, shoving her hands in her pockets as she looked first one way and then the other down the alley to make certain the coast was clear.

“One hour. Don’t let them get away with anything,” she teased.

Sergio took off his cap and immediately searched the lining. His break would end in another 10 minutes, which would give him just enough time to step out for a smoke, dust off the ash, and hop back in to the lobby for his shift on the elevator. He wound through the kitchen and the backways to find the exit, all the while tucking his fingers into the hole in his cap’s hem. About three left, he noted.

The door out to the trashbins was heavy and required him to shoulder it aside, so when it swung wide, his back remained to the street as he came down the few steps. He pulled out a thin sheet of rolling paper and a small tin and set about rolling up his cigarette.

He was about halfway done licking the edge to seal it before he turned enough to notice the girl standing on the other side of the door.

lightofthenine:

@firstsonofasgard

When the knock had sounded at the door, Asa was not certain what she had been expecting. It certainly wasn’t this.

The prince towered almost larger than life over her in the small frame of the house. She’d seen him plenty of times, of course, and knew that he and Sif were close companions, but she had never – he had never been over to the house. Not her house. 

No doubt that was partially Sif’s doing, what with Arni’s expectations for her.

Jaw dropping, Asa gave a little bow belatedly. 

“My…My prince, what can I do for you?”

Thor pushed his best smile through–the one he reserved for mothers and visiting diplomats his parents had instructed him could enact trade wars with the hint of a negative impression. “Lady Asa,” he greeted, shifting the bag upon his shoulder slightly to the side as he gave a brief, noding bow. “Sif invited me to … well, for a visit. Considering what has–” he had difficulty maintaining the expression, trained as it was. “It just seemed important for those of us who were close to Balder to … be there for each other.”

“Is it all right if I come in?” he asked, though he was fairly certain he did not need to, at least if her expression was anything to judge by.

“O-oh! Uhm...” Asa stepped to the side, still hanging from the door, her eyes still wide and unbelieving. Sif had invited him. “Of course! Please forgive my manners. Sif’s room is -- Sif is...uh...”

She pointed in the direction of Sif’s sleep quarters lamely.

balderoncebrave:

freyroftheharvest:

“That is what disguises are for,” Freyr answered blandly. Why did she insist on making things so difficult. It was hard enough as it was to convince Balder to go in on it. Gerdr’s objections would only make it more so. 

“Surely you remember from your days as an active soldier amongst the Einherjar?”

“I do not know what sort of disguises you might have on hand, but I still … I do not know how well I would be able to hold up under any sort of questioning,” Balder said after finishing the place settings. “A disguise is one thing, but … you know I am not very … I am not adept at acting,” he insisted glumly.

“And even if I were to … certainly there would need to be some discussion as to who we are meant to be before we go in.” 

Sif rolled her eyes, “Just let me do most of the talking. It will be fine!” Of course they would need to nail down specifics, but that was what the evening was for. Freyr would surely provide them with everything they would need. 

“I was never in espionage,” Gerdr huffed her answer at her husband. “We never did put much stock in that area as I recall--at least not back then. Apparently, some methods have changed since I left.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the steam coming from the pot upon the stove. “The vegetables should be done,” she nodded in their direction while she and Sif enjoyed the rest of their ‘break.’ She made no move to fetch and strain them. “Which means the pheasants should be just about ready as well.”

“So you’ve said,” Freyr took the words in stride, frowning deeply as the old man went back to his former statement. It was robotic, automatic…As though he were reciting. 

The assertions that Freyr had built up in his mind that Hoder was guilty, that he had confessed to a crime he knew he had done and wanted to be punished for, were starting to crumble. Hogun had insisted that the old man was not guilty. Someone else’s work was at play.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deep through his nose. Damn. 

“Would you not have picked up the arrow by the fletching and knock to draw it from the quiver, Master Hoder?”

“Yes, I--but . . . I took up the arrow,” Hoder’s speech now came through his teeth. “I held it . . . as anyone--the shaft and fletching, but it was--I shot the arrow,” the cycle began again. “I killed him.”