"your loss, not mine."
HE LIKES THE GALLOWS HUMOR.
“Not sold on the assertion, friend.”
Naturally, Loki supposed it could have come off as jarring, and really, it was--up until this point it was as if Hoxton had him on a string, all to come to a screaming halt with an ineffectual “No.” on Loki’s part, tone not dissimilar to the one you’d use when declining a salesman at the door.
Behind his eyes and seeming look of utter ambivalence, Loki was smirking. Almost as if that was the intended effect.
“Your plan is noble, if we’re talking honor among thieves,” Loki added, “But it’ll go nowhere. These entities hold their cards far too closely to their chest to let something as basic as fraud come to pass. It won’t make them come out any quicker, either.”
It did flatter him that for all his crowing skepticism and doubt for Loki being, indeed, the real Loki, the Loki you read about in highschool libraries’ mythology aisles and elsewhere, that he nevertheless thought of coming to him for this plan. Maybe Hoxton did believe after all--or maybe, and this was likelier still, he’s bored and desperate. Loki could empathize with the feeling.
“If we’re going to push boundaries to get, as you mortals would say, the men in black out, you need to think bigger than embezzlement of a currency we scarcely understand. Much bigger. Until then, I’m afraid I won’t help you. I do like you, though.” Loki tilted his head. “You’re at least thinking. That’s more than what I can say on account of many people I’ve met on this holed raft beside the sea.”
Tapping the side of his cheek, he waved him off. “Unless you have something else to complain to me about?”
