The Science of Mischief

She wasn’t drunk enough to forget the man whom she had recently broken up with, but she was apparently drunk enough to see his dead brother standing half in the shadows, staring at her from across the busy bar.

She laughed to herself when she first saw him, thinking shehad finally lost it altogether, but that laughter quickly dissipated when he started walking across the room in her direction. She looked around at the crowd, wondering if anyone else had noticed the tall, pale, shifty figure clad entirely in an eccentric leather outfit moving towards her like a hunter about to attack its prey, but no; no one else was paying him any mind.

As he approached her, she began to panic and did the first irrational thing that popped into her mind. Reaching for her half empty glass of scotch, she turned just in time to douse his face with the liquid.

“Hello Miss Foster,” Loki said in a low growl, smirking as he wiped the drink off his face with the back of his hand. “Why, you look like yo