Re: LOKI
Loki’s lips pursed together so hard they formed an almost comical straight line across his face. Like an animated character. It was that instantaneous frustrated Loki pout he was so adept at. If Thor were there he would have recognized it from their childhood and made a joke about it. The telltale sign of Loki trying his hardest to withhold his temper. Mobius had probably seen the same look once or twice on a Variant or two. It was one of Loki’s default expressions of annoyance.
And Strange always knew exactly how to inspire it. “I am perfectly aware of the symbolism.”
Loki shifted in his seat and looked down at his cards. It was not a good hand. If it had just been the favor at stake then he wouldn’t have thought twice about throwing his hand down face up. But Loki loved that slot machine. It was the first thing he’d gotten himself after arriving in Derleth. It had sentimental value. (All those nights of it going off at ridiculous hours and driving the people on his floor insane with its persistent meowing and clinking coin sounds.) Not to mention the cute animated kittens on the display. He didn’t want to lose it again.
But maybe Stephen was bluffing. Loki peered at him, trying to see past the sorcerer’s stupid smile. But it was impossible to guess if it was a bluff now because Loki had allowed his own guise to break too quickly. Which meant it was all a guessing game now. It was completely up to chance. Or, better yet, whether Loki was willing to take a chance.
He frowned.
“Fork,” Loki grumbled. He tossed his cards on the table, face down. “…Fold.”