#a blend

@mobiusbmobius​

"You know, if you had trusted me in the first place, we'd be out there right now, on the timeline, saving lives. But no. Here I am making sure the god of mischief gets his beauty rest."  Mobius's tone was soft, nonjudgmental, but his words had a bite. Loki had disappointed him.

But no... Mission failure wasn't Loki's fault. This was his mission and Loki his responsibility. The higher ups had told him that none could bring the god of mischief to heel. Mobius was determined to prove them wrong. Like a dog with a bone, Mobius didn’t give up easily.

He retrieved the ice pack from the freezer and pressed it to the side of Loki's face. "What were you thinking?"

“Spare me the litany of complaints,” Loki responds, breaking the glare he had fixed upon the man before him moments earlier.  He waves his hand nonchalantly, dismissively even.  He’s had worse.  Mission failure or not - he had garnered information, though only a small amount, but he could work with that.  If a battered face was the price to pay for that, then so be it.  It would heal.

So lost in thought was the god that he didn’t notice Mobius’s approach, and the cold press of the ice pack startles him, causing him to flinch as if struck.  He recovers quickly though, widened eyes narrowing as a hand raises to shove the ice pack away.  “This is unnecessary.”  He read such a kindness as pity and that just wouldn’t do.