Who: Scott and Loki What: Mysterious luncheons are mysterious. Where: A sandwich shop in the Capitol. When: Two days after these texts.
Scott had a habit of cataloging exits, because knowing how to get out of somewhere was usually just as important as knowing how to get in. It was always good to have an escape plan, whether it was to weasel his way out of well-meaning but vapid conversation or to duck out on something a little more sinister. A lunch date with the man instrumental in breaking apart your family, say.
Which meant Scott had felt compelled to choose a venue that boasted more than one way out, just in case. Carver's Kitchen had three, and enough people milling about on their lunch hour that he was reasonably sure he'd get a head start if a head start was needed. Maybe it was overkill, but the last time Loki had reached out, it was to warn Scott that his burgling days were numbered. And the timing of Loki's texts were coincidental enough to put him on edge. It wasn't likely that the Game Maker knew of the real reason for his trip to Twelve, but then, he hadn't expected anyone to know he was stealing from the Capitol, either.
Scott threaded his way through the lunch rush with practiced ease, sliding into one of the uncomfortable chairs the deli offered for dining in. He had no interest in actual dining (his appetite had been spotty at best since the arena dedication, despite not succumbing to any dosed food), but had brought along a bottle of water to avoid seeming out of place. And to have something to keep his hands occupied, lest he look too shifty while he waited. It was bad enough he was staring down the door.