The call was unexpected. Or rather the caller. Odin hurried out, grabbing his long overcoat and propping his hat on his head, pulling it down on the right side automatically.
News about Bragi at last, he thought to himself.
However, as he approached the fire he had been summoned to, he realized two things. One, that Loki looked far too relaxed to be delivering important news, and his heart sunk in disappointment. But as he surveyed the entire scene from his still-distant vantage point, the second thing was the familiarity of it all, and a glimmer of hope appeared. Not for his lost son, but rather his relationship with the Trickster.
How many times had they done this? The fire, the wilderness, just each other for company. Odin had thought the days would be long gone, and perhaps they were. A meeting this way was certainly necessary, considering the circumstances, and it was unlikely this was a social call.
Still, he could hope. No one, not even Frigg for all her wonderful insight, could understand how much Odin missed this, despite the fact that much of the fault lay with himself. Despite it, or maybe because of it. What matter?
"Hail, Brother," Odin greeted his old friend as he made his way around the fire and chose a spot on the log to sit. Maybe Loki no longer quite thought of him as highly as he once had, but the bond was still there. Apparently, so were some of their old habits. Odin had noted the bottle in Loki's hand.
He gave a low laugh as he reached into the coat pocket and fished out a pack of smokes. "Not quite a horn and a pipe, but not much different either."