FOURTEEN

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
MISCHIEF
AND
MARGARITAS

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KETTI NEVER THOUGHT SHE'D BE THE TYPE TO ATTRACT A GOD INTO HER LIFE, AND YET, HERE HE STOOD.

"I see your eyes are working."

"No, but you're...Loki," Ketti repeated, blinking in confusion. "I don't — I don't understand. Why are you here? How'd you get in here?"

"I'm a god, darling," Loki rolled his eyes, crossing his arms unbothered. He wasn't dressed in what she'd call his "normal outfit," but more or less some sort of — she'd presume at least — Asgardian leather pants and some sort of shirt.

He was hot.

(She JUST left Frank and she's already after Loki? I can't blame her, he's more Logan's type, not that he'll ever admit that, he's a secret pining puppy, but if it were Thor, I'd definitely agree in this situation. God, does Thor have dreamy arms. I'd like to be wrapped up in those and suffocated until my vision blacks out and I come up for oxygen and I find it in his perfect delicious mouth.)

"Right, but how are you here?" Ketti asked in confusion. "In my place? And...why?"

"That's a very good question," Loki nodded. "The answer for which I am still trying to decipher. Ketti, do you fancy a drink?"

"Like...you wanna get drunk?" Ketti blinked.

Loki nodded. "Get dressed. You look terrible. I'll wait."

An hour later, Ketti walked out of her bedroom to find a woman.

"Still me," Loki spoke. "I prefer this form when I'm having fun."

"You are..."

(And she is. Really. Tom Hiddleston is hot but picture a female with that jawline and those eyes and the accent — oh, everyone's pants would be ruined.)

"Hot," Ketti finished, clearing her throat. "I, um," she brushed back a piece of her hair, a bit more nervous.

Loki arched a delicate eyebrow in amusement. "Come on, darling," she rolled her eyes. "Let's get our drinks on. You've just been through a breakup."

"It wasn't really a breakup," Ketti mumbled, trailing after Loki as they left her apartment.

"Put the show on for someone who didn't hear it all."

"Yeah, can we talk about that," Ketti glanced to Loki as they walked downstairs. "You just...were my cat?"

"Companion," Loki corrected. "You're...interesting, Ketti. So many things about you intertwine in a way they shouldn't. And, yet, you're nothing special."

(Ouch. Don't listen to her, pookie, you're special to me.)

"Uh, excuse me?"

Loki rolled her eyes. "Do we have to a bar? That is incredibly tedious. Take my hand," she offered a manicured hand for Ketti, who took it nervously, praying to the fucking — well, not gods because Loki was next to her, but fucking something that her hands weren't clammy or gross — and Loki teleported them to a back alley. "Much better."

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