Sweet Sinful Revenge

Chapter Eight

"I'll take another, and make it a double this time."

The woman behind the bar smiled at the brooding stranger in spite of his brusque tone, as she took his empty glass.

"Coming right up, sir."

For the first time since entering the bar, Loki looked at her properly, giving her his full attention. She had called him sir, and he liked that. It appealed to the dark, authoritative part of his nature that craved subjugation, obedience, and respect from others.
The particular shade of her long, flaxen hair was a little brassy for his liking, her make-up somewhat heavy and overdone, but she was pretty enough. Perhaps a harmless flirtation would serve as a distraction.

But no. Even as she placed his drink on the bar, taking the money from him with another coquettish smile, he realised that he had no stomach for it.
Natasha Romanoff's dismissiveness towards him had put him in the blackest of moods, and after her, no other Midgardian female seemed worthy enough to warrant his attention.

"Keep the change for yourself. Have a drink on me." He offered placatingly, being far more generous than he felt inclined to be.

"Thanks." She replied, but Loki had already turned abruptly away.

He had wiled away the day wandering aimlessly, and this bar he had happened upon was less sophisticated than the other, and much further down the beach. But he'd gone there after having decided it best to put some distance between himself and Natasha, if he was to successfully avoid running into her again.

He could have left altogether. Could have conjured the Tesseract and taken his chances by teleporting somewhere else. Anywhere else. And so what if he ended up inadvertently travelling through time as well as space again? He had nothing to lose, and there was nothing worth sticking around here for.

Even the prospect of seducing the woman tending the bar, if not for any other reason than to perhaps get Agent Romanoff out of his system, was not enticing enough to keep him here. In fact, to be away from the place would more than likely be the best solution. There'd be adventure and plenty of mischief to be found elsewhere.

And yet, for reasons that mystified his own logic, he couldn't quite bring himself to leave. Not just yet.

So instead, he'd resigned himself to consuming copious amounts of whiskey, with the purpose of getting blind drunk. Though it was proving to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. Midgardian alcohol was far less potent than Asgardian ale, so he was nowhere near to being as inebriated as he would've liked. Not yet at least.

Sitting himself back down at his preferred spot in the corner, his fingers absently drummed against the surface of the table. Seeking solace in alcohol was not one of his characteristics. That was something Thor had always been more inclined to do, whilst Loki had always advised him that solutions were never to be found at the bottom of an empty beer tankard.

Now he was willing to take his chances, and give it his best shot.

Losing himself in his thoughts, he paid no heed to the sound of someone else entering the bar. It was only when he sensed their presence loitering close by did he pay attention and look up.

"I might've guessed you'd be here. I can't seem to get away from you."

To Loki's surprise and irritation, Natasha Romanoff was standing in front of him.
She was a vision to behold, looking like an Olympian Goddess in a long, white, beautiful Grecian-style dress, her auburn tresses falling around her face in soft curls.