Sir Saladvocate - Lokius

🥑 Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame.

B-15 presents a plan within minutes of cutting the stupid tomatoes. She has it all drawn out on her clipboard, her pen circling points on her list that she deems most important as she explains them, while Loki pretends to actually care. But something about her plan catches on, because he starts legitimately respecting her, beginning to occasionally go along with her ideas and not question them first.

"So, day one," B-15 reiterates to him, "you give him a salad. Knowing you, it'll be a train wreck. Just let it happen. Roll with the stupid punches, you know? Take it like a god. I mean, you're a whiny god, but take it like a normal one."

Loki sighs. "Day two."

"Day two," B-15 replies, "and this doesn't have to be the day right after, by the way. You can wait for a bit until you think you're ready enough to move on."

"Right," Loki replies, "but what am I doing?"

"You give him another one when your skills have improved. Make it better than the first to really show your effort." The officer circles this part on her list, underlining the word 'effort' and moving on. "I have a few strings to pull with one of our receptionists, but I'll have the rest of the plan sorted out soon enough. I'll meet you when it's ready. If you have any ideas, write them down and leave them on my desk. Don't sign your name in case someone finds them. I'll know it's you; your penmanship is a special kind of illegible."

"My penmanship is impeccable," Loki argues. "You just can't read it because it's cursive."

"I can't read it because it's terrible," B-15 snorts. "I know cursive. C'mon, asshole. I have a basic knowledge of formal education."

Loki crosses his arms. "Dick."

"Whiny bitch," B-15 responds rather affectionately, leaving Loki to disengage entirely and prepare himself in his head for the diabolical plot of giving Mobius an almost-decent replacement for what has been lost.

He presents Mobius with a new salad in a matter of days. They both stare down at it as it seems to melt into itself.

Mobius does not attempt to be impressed. "Are you doing this because you feel bad?"

"Why would I feel remorse, Mobius? Me?" Loki reasons, feeling remorse. "Here's a fork."

"Perhaps you're not so evil after all," Mobius compliments, but he revokes this immediately as he takes a bite. "Oh, wow. How old is that tomato?"

Loki hesitates. "It's pre-sliced."

A pause. "From when?"

Loki looks him blankly in the eye. Mobius crosses his arms—his interrogation stance.

"From when, Loki?"

Loki clears his throat and eyes the floor to confess. "From when you taught me how to slice them."

Mobius tosses his head back to sigh exasperatedly at the ceiling. "Two days ago?" he whines at him. "And they've just been sitting out?"

Loki motions a stiff arm to the salad. "It's natural!"

"So is food poisoning!" Mobius argues. "Do you know nothing about fruits?"

"Oh, shut up," says Loki, somehow expecting this to be honored.

"Do you dislike not knowing about things?" Mobius asks with a short, thoughtful laugh. "You always get so heated up when I correct you. Why? Because I'm right?"

Loki closes his eyes, raises his brows, sighs. "I'm sorry about the salad."

"This one?" Mobius asks, clearly still hung up on the last one. And then, with a double-take, he narrows his eyes. "Sorry?"