And today, that someone was a Devon-shaped someone.
He was enjoying the sun, though it wasn't obvious - he had his hood up, sunglasses on, one hand firmly stuffed into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. The other held a cigarette, Devon's boots crunching on the gravel path.
Loki's hair was a veritable beacon, and the sight of the man lounging in the arms of a statue made Devon wish he was a photographer.
Hell, he had a cameraphone, that'd do - he had to get this guy signed, somehow. He slid his phone out of his pocket, surrepticiously taking a picture of Loki before approaching.