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Slouched in an exceedingly comfortable chair and with his feet up on the small over-stuffed ottoman, the man known as Louis King reclines. A weekend newspaper is in his hands as he seems so entirely at ease, enjoying his liberty by reading the headlines and the articles, at times even going so far as to follow up to other pages. A pipe is settled in the corner of his mouth that allows a small tendril of smoke to wend its way upwards while he reads.
Around him the room is quiet, save for the tick from the grandfather clock and the faint burbling of the tea pot that occasionally seems to reheat on its own. Sometimes he'll reach over to refill his cup, and other times he'll reach for the aluminum container of biscuits. Sometimes he'll even liberate a biscuit and then dip it in his tea as he peruses an article here and there.
Outside there's a good bit of rain this evening, though no thunder thankfully. It's just a nice steady drizzle that's perfect for this particular setting to seem rather homey.
*
As Louis King is busy playing stay at home Amora has been out. Exhilaration colors her cheeks a rosy hue as she closes the umbrella at the door and seems to take swift enjoyment of shaking out the drops of water all over the front entry to the abode. Her gaze swings over 'Glory and King' and she rolls her eyes, barging in without so much as a knock. How she gets through the door and inside is anyone guess, but she does so regardless with her usual drama.
"Daaarling, you look simply domestic." She cajoled, her lips painted red and pulled into a smirk. A hand on her hip as she pauses before the doorway and spies Louis.
"Also, really, Glory and King? I feel as if I can make some joke about overcompensating with the constant use of the name 'King' that I see you with, but that would be uncouth." She practically glides toward him on the tips of her toes, coming over to sit on the arm of his comfortable chair.
*
"Mmm," Louis' first answer is given to her as he holds up a single finger from behind his newspaper, as if staying her advance and conversational gambits until he finishes reading his chosen article. That smoke continues to wend upwards as he makes her wait first 30 seconds… then a minute. Questions may be asked by her, perhaps even a few comments. But he just keeps on reading.
It's only after three minutes have elapsed that he closes the newspaper with a flurry of paper and folds it to set in his lap. "Amora," He reaches a hand over and selects a butter cookie-ish biscuit and proceeds to dip it lightly into his tea before taking a bit. "What do you want?" His lip curls, amused.
*
Astonishment follows the rise of his finger, her form twisting round to face him from her perch as she crossed her arms beneath her chest and pouted. She glowers at the newspaper, and as he makes her wait—she scans over the back of the page. Something about some mortal sports tourney that had gone wrong? She wasn't sure and as the moments ticked by, she grew to care less. Several comments were made as he ignores her, about his rudeness mostly.
When he finally lowers the page and folds it in his lap, she reaches out to snatch a cookie too, her color high in her cheekbones as she chewed it and made /him/ wait this time. She clapped her hands free of crumbling cookie and then shifted forward on her perch on the armrest of his chair.
"You're such an ass. I came here to thank you," She wrinkled her nose as she said the last part. "But now I'm not so sure." She huffed.
*
A quirk of his eyebrow is given as Louis considers Amora, his smile still almost daring to spring to life but never quite making it there. Instead he listens to her as she speaks and then replies with that smile now given albeit a touch ruefully. "Oh, thank me for something? Whatever for?" He crosses his leg over his knee and seems so very comfortable, the other foot still on the edge of that ottoman.
"And you know it's traditional that when you create a detective agency you name it for the two partners involved in it. I think you are just envious that I come up with the best games and you're stuck with the one." He looks so terribly self-amused, the jerk.
*
A roll of her eyes followed his near smile and self satisfied look. She shook her head once and huffed a short sigh of a breath. "One. For the rescue and care you gave me after Muspelhiem. I never thanked you for that. Two. For the little follow up in which you gave me charge of Hercules. He's a good catch. I quite enjoy playing with him. So thank you." She crossed her arms, and narrowed her eyes as if daring him to mock her attempts at a 'thank you'.
"And also I have more than the name 'Helen Eve'— That's simply the one that I've used this time around." She rolled her shoulders back, "I should've gone for Lilith honestly, she's much more amusing in the mortal's stories. Ah well.." She mused mostly to herself.
*
"Oh I'm still Louis King I was more… you know, nevermind." Loui simply smiles again as he settles to the side, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and propping his chin up while he looks to her in that smug self-satisfied way of his for some reason. Another biscuit is taken from the tin and he lightly breaks it in half as he spreads his hands. "So that was it? A thank you for once? Very kind of you. How very out of character."
Then, with that smirk he asks again, "So what do you want?" Which, to be fair, she might well not want anything save to hassle him. But he is always so wary, isn't he?
*
A twist of her lips followed an arch of her brow as she eyed him, her figure tilting back to better eye him with a dry flicker of a glance. Her arms still folded beneath her chest. "I'm in a good mood. Hercules is a very good toy, and I enjoy him immensely. He was exiled here too." Her lips quirk upwards in the corners. "He was exiled for bedding Zeus' cupbearer and a naiad. Apparently that was a no-no." She rolled her shoulders back and shrugged.
Green eyes ran over his achingly domestic guise and she reached forward to poke at his chest. "I don't want anything, I just wanted to tease you some and have our usual tête-à-tête. Is that so unusual?" She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled the coy smile that she had adopted more as of late. Perhaps she had seen one too many movies with Hollywood actresses trying to look innocent.
*
The smile shifts from one side to the other, becoming a more pronounced smirk as he murmurs to her. "Good, perhaps you can forget about Thor for a time long enough to reflect on yourself and see who you really are when not held in comparison to a man." And as he says that his smile remains oh so curved and amused… despite the perhaps utter harshness of those words that are delivered with such casual aplomb that their impact might not be realized for the space of several heartbeats.
But then he adds with a casual gesture to the side, "Though it might be a good idea for you to aim Hercules at Muspelheim somewhat, if only to get him mentally pointed in that direction for possible use down the line."
*
A glare snaps at Amora's gaze at his words, the utter cruelty in his words, said with such a smirk settle into her chest like a knife and she seethes for some time. Then she slides smoothly off the armrest and into his lap, crushing the newspaper beneath her. As she reaches up to try to hook her hand around the back of the chair for balance. The smile she returns to him is chilling in its own right, even as her eyes blaze hot with rage.
"You don't know me at all, if that's why you think I care so much about your brother. Casting aside the fact that he is unaffected by my magic, but he also has a heart of gold—one unchanged by the centuries. He's a /good/ man. Which is something I know you have trouble grasping, but he is actually kind because it's the right thing to do. Not because it gets him somewhere. That matters to me." She said softly, her voice barely a whisper before she leaned away and pulled herself up into more of a sitting position.
"But on the subject of Hercules, yes. He has his armor and next is his mace. He already cheers about beating up my foes. Especially those that have hurt me in the past, such as the giants in Muspelhiem. You need not worry about pointing him anywhere."
*
There's a sloooow buh-link given to her as he meets her gaze, his own green eyes calm and controlled as he tells her, "Perhaps I believe what I said. Perhaps I agree with you. Perhaps I feel you're right about my brother. Perhaps I feel you have no idea what his true feelings are. The only thing you can be certain of here, right now, Amora… is that you are angry. And I somehow doubt you are aiming Hercules solely at those of Muspelheim. Be careful, Enchantress. The seduction of heroes often has a way of turning back upon the seducer."
There's a pause and he smiles easily as he reaches for the other half of the cookie in its tin that he had devoured only moments ago. He tosses it into his mouth and chews. "Or at the least that's how all the old tales go."
*
A huff followed his perhaps and speech and she shook her head and rolled her eyes once more, folding her arms as her rage evaporated. "Hm, I didn't really have to work that hard at seduction. You do know the Greeks' tendencies, right? Because he's.." She paused and seemed to struggle for a moment at an apt description of how easy it was to get Hercules into her arms.
"He was just interested in me anyways.. You know, as /most/ are? It comes with being one of the most beautiful creatures in all the Nine Realms." She shrugged and left it at that, before her look turned wicked and she leaned forward to whisper against his ear.
"You know, I'm pretty sure he'd be into you joining us sometime…" She murmured, and then leaned back and laughed lightly, an amused quirk pulling at her lips.
*
A snort comes from him, "I am sure he was rather susceptible to your charms, magical or otherwise." Louis crinkles his nose at her as he takes up his cup of tea, eyeing her warily. "The man has a certain reputation to maintain." But he then settles deeper into the chair, taking up his cup of tea and lightly dabbing a finger-tip in it to sprinkle a few droplets up at Amora's nose as one might do to a disobedient cat.
"And no, thank you. I am sure he is a wonderful lover, but after a night with him I somehow imagine I'd end up having to vacuum up all the shed fur for months afterwards." He gives a small nod solemnly.
*
A cackle of laughter escapes Amora as she leaned back to avoid the splash of tea in vain, and she rubbed at her face to wipe it off. She burst into laughter again at his last comment and she bent slightly to press a hand against her lips to stifle the sound. After several long moments of this she regained control, even if the amusement danced in her eyes.
"I didn't think he'd be your type, but the thought amused me all the same. By the Nine Realms," She sighed, her smile still pulled wide and twitching against further laughter. "He is rather covered in hair, I could likely cut it all off and have enough to make a second Hercules.."
A wink followed as she shifted and curled up on his lap, settling her head against his nearest shoulder. "What about your darling Scarlett? Do you think she'd turn red or purposefully ignore the question if I asked her? She's so very careful with her words. I saw her summoning fire the other day. Nearly destroyed a nearby stone with the heat from it. I was impressed."
*
Almost admonishingly, Louis points one hand to the side and says lightly, "Get back in your seat, Amora. For shame, what would your boyfriend say?" Though as he says this his own smile curves wry as he takes another sip of his tea and sets it aside. He pushes a hand through his hair, then scritches at the curve of his beard almost thoughtfully as he considers her words.
"If you'd like to ask Scarlett, please feel free. I don't think she'd find it safe to do so in some ways as her ability isn't entirely under her control. But no harm in offering." He gives a small shrug but then adds, "Though she does have a certain gift for the art. It's a pity her lifespan is not long enough that she'd be able to develop it fully."
*
Another smile pulled at her lips, and she had to clap her hand over her mouth to stifle another laugh at his jest. She poke him lightly, shaking her head. "He'll just have to come defend my doubtful honor." Her voice still warm with the effused mirth within each word. A hand reached up to tangle in his hair in an idle manner. "Don't worry, I'm sure you can out wit him with ease."
"I would ask her if only to see her reaction. I wonder if there are any spells I might teach her so that she can have some modicum of control. Frankly I don't know what I would do if I couldn't physically touch anyone.. ever.." She shook her head, her lips pursing together in thought.
"It is a pity that her lifespan is such. I spoke with her at length, and she has potential. Very good concentration. She was able to conjure lightning and ice as well, and dismiss it safely. So many students summon such things and lose the spell when it comes time to dismiss it." She murmured softly.
*
A deep breath is taken as he looks at her, and then he places his hands on the arms of his chair and proceeds to… get… up! The jerk does so in a way that he doesn't seem to care if Amora is going to stay in his lap or somehow go falling down onto the floor, he's so terribly rude. But he did warn her after all. Yet with his new posture he's able to disentangle himself, though he at least touches a small kiss to her hand as he extricates and starts to move over towards the tea kettle.
Taking it in hand he starts to head back to refill his cup. "Did you want some tea, by the way?" He asks idly. He turns it on its side to gurgle liquid in his cup. "My partner would consider this a form of blasphemy, by the bye. She feels very strongly about the proper preparation of tea. While I, a true heathen, simply conjure it as I am wont to do. You might like her if you ever met her."
Once that's done he sits back down in his chair, his cup of tea held in both hands as he looks to her. "If you are going to try and train her, I recommend you taking the pace slowly."
*
An 'oof' follows as Amora tumbled down and mostly, catches herself via use of the chair. An annoyed look crosses her features as she shoot him a half hearted scowl, much like a cat outted from its favored lap. She took his chair until he returned, and then she promptly made the point of sitting on the arm of his chair again—perfect to slide back onto his lap again.
"Ugh, yes, tea sounds fine." She begrudgingly agreed, "Who's your partner and what /exactly/ are you bothering with this place for? I thought you were busy playing professor?" She hitched a brow upwards.
"And I have some idea of what to do when it comes to teaching a mortal magic. I've done it before—granted it has been several centuries…" She shook her head slightly, tossing back blonde curls over her shoulder. "But currently all she's been doing is practising summoning and dismissal of basic elements. That's all I've asked of her and will continue to do so. Until she can build up her stamina to match her control, she won't be safe doing much else for a time."
She sighed, stretching her arms over her head, a sensuous movement that, with nearly anyone else, would have caught their eyes and held them enthralled for several long moments. Not so with current company, but still.
*
The relative stillness of the hallway isn't quite oppressive, but instills a feeling of vaguely ominous stress on any visitor. The air movement is minimal until a snap-crackle of light disrupts it entirely. Reality itself opens in a widening lens limed in golden braided lightning and Dr. Strange steps out, Cloak and all. The crimson fabric swirls briefly around his lean frame as he turns half-about to gesture the rift closed behind him. It disappears with no sound save for the faintest dimensional disturbance, like the puff of smoke from an old-time camera.
All around him are the clinging spiderwebs of such icy familiarity that he pauses a moment to briefly grind his teeth and roll the tension from his shoulders. He dislikes entering unfamiliar territory, especially when it belongs to a practitioner of equal skill, but the lure was familiar and irresistible: solving the problem of Muspelheim, a fiasco his apprentice has been involved in one too many times. It isn't difficult to find the door on which to knock - it's nearly the nexus of the wards and Strange can tell that the writer of the invitation waits beyond the threshold. Clearing his throat, he knocks on the door with professional precision and then retreats two steps. A host who takes the moment to invite him in is doubtfully looking to stab him in the back.
*
"I am, I am." Louis tells her, "I'm a professor. But also I'm a private investigator. My partner is a Ms. Braddock. Lovely British woman, staggeringly deadly. She apparently likes to play games as well. We have decided to take on clients as we can, and to attempt to solve their cases without the use of our abilities beyond that which a normal mortal might have well in hand. You see what fun you miss out on with your whole, 'Oh woe is me, I'm a lost Asgardian.' schtick?"
And as the good professor says this he drops back down into his seat. For a moment he look thoughtful, "Curiously enough, she has no idea who I am. I don't think it matters to her." He gives a small shrug and then steals another biscuit from the tin and nibbles at the corner of it.
And then there's a knock. Tilting his head to the side, Louis looks towards it then asks Amora, "Are you expecting anyone?" Yet he does not await her response before he lifts his voice, "Come in."
*
Perhaps it was more in her nature to cause trouble, or mostly the lack of disregard she had for personal space—especially when it came to the Princes of Asgard. So when he reclaimed his seat, she reclaimed her position on his lap. An arch of her brow as she met his gaze was all that offered as she reached up to the crook of his neck and rubbed the muscles there with a practiced hand. "Oh my, school is so slow that you need play at a mortal investigator too? I'm sure that'll be interesting.." She offered dryly, clearly unimpressed with his idea of fun.
As the knock echos in the door, she cuts off further response, though she makes no move to rise from her spot, much less stop in what her fingers were doing. A wicked, wolfish smile flutters upon her lips in response as she met Louis' own matching green gaze.
*
It isn't difficult to pick out that Cambridge accent through the thick wooden door. After the invitation is extended, Strange opens the door and steps through with his usual subtly-arrogant stance. Nothing zaps at him, claws at his personal defenses, or attempts to infiltrate his mind, so he counts this as a positive thing so far. His hand lingers on the doorknob in reaction to the sight of the blonde-haired magician sitting astride Professor King's lap, but he's getting much better about dismissing unexpected circumstances (courtesy of his apprentice and her mishaps), so he shuts the door behind him and manages to avoid catching his Cape in the process. His gaze briskly flits about the room and finds it somewhat to his liking. There's a hint of the esoteric and mystery to every touch.
"Professor," he says, addressing the man first with a curt nod of greeting. "And Lady," he adds with a hint of coldness that shows in the blue of his eyes. "Are we expecting others at this meeting?"
*
At that appearance, Louis King seems… amused. His lip curls oh so wickedly as he looks across the way and then offers his greeting. "Good Doctor. It seems you might be a touch late. Our meeting time has come and gone and you come upon me in a moment of moderate indiscretion." He offers as if admitting to such terrible things as the attentions of the Enchantress.
"Though, I assure you, you were missed. We discussed matters of Muspelheim and our courses of action. Matters I would make you privy of if you so wished." He then lightly cocks an eyebrow at Amora as he admonishes her with a smirk, "Trust you are not interrupting anything of aught importance."
*
At the sight of the Doctor's arrival, Amora's eyes twinkle with mischief and she curls a hand up and into Loki's hair briefly and presses a none too chaste kiss against his lips before untangling herself with an easy grace and standing. She winked at Strange, striding up toward him with a sway of her hips and a wicked smile on her features. "Yes, please, do come in Doctor." She circled behind him, looking over him with a lecherous once over.
"And please, use my name. I gave it to you freely after all. And really—" She fluttered her eyelashes and reached out a hand to smooth over his arm. "We are so acquainted that we should be on a first name basis already." She coo'ed, her gaze flickering toward Loki with mirth.
*
"Unfortunately," Strange mutters under his breath as he carefully side-steps away from her reaching hand. It grazes his sleeve and thankfully not his skin. He remembers all too well the results of the Enchantress's touch. His sharp focus shifts back to the smug Professor King behind his desk and he holds the man's gaze as he makes his way over to one of the high-backed chairs in the room nearest to the fireplace. With practiced grace, he sits in it and manages to not let one crease mar his Cape. It drapes over both arms of the chair and settles beneath him tamely.
"Surely you know, Professor, that a wizard is never late." His scarred hand brushes along the checkered inner fabric of his cloak before he settles comfortably and sighs. "And please, a brief summary of this mess in Muspelheim. I find myself more and more involved with its repercussions daily and tire of it."
*
Louis gets to his feet even as he walks over towards the hat and coat rack nearby, "Amora can fill you in on the details," The professor takes a hat off of the rack, then his coat even as he doffs the cap. He starts to slide it on as he turns to face the other fellow who just arrived. "Basically we believe we may have resolved the major issue as it stood. Returning Surtur's daughter to him and removing any need for conflict beyond the lovely desire for conquest."
Louis adjusts the hang of his coat with the sweep of one hand, then continues as he steps forth. "However we have decided to take a few measures to aid in the defense of Midgard should matters turn ill. Amora is tasked with gaining the support of the Greek demi-god Hercules. Clea and Scarlett are tasked with shoring up a series of wards in the locations that are weak between the two realms. And I shall be heading to Asgard to perhaps find what Odin's intentions may be."
With that having been said he gestures with one hand, "Feel free to help yourself to some tea, there are biscuits in the tin." As he says that he turns towards the door and offers over his shoulder, "Lock up when you leave, Amora." Though he doubts she will so he locks the door once he opens it, and then steps on through.