#it feeds

Mobius: We need to pick up toilet paper.

Loki, scandalized: You speak of this necessity so casually. A god should not be reduced to scavenging for paper scraps! There should be attendants for this.

Mobius: There are. They work at Target. Come on

Mobius, handing him a sponge: This is for wiping down the counters.

Loki, holding it at arm’s length: It is… squishy. Is it alive?

Mobius: No.

Loki: It is absorbing things, Mobius. It feeds.

Loki in a grocery store, spinning dramatically in front of the frozen peas: Is this what your people call nourishment? Locked in icy tombs? Preserved like fallen warriors? Where are the feasting halls? The long tables? The firelit mead??

Mobius, holding a basket of granola bars: They’re aisle four.

Mobius: You press the button to call the elevator.

Loki, frowning at the panel: It summons a box to lift you into the air?

Mobius: Yeah. Just press-

Loki: What if it refuses? What if it hungers for sacrifice?