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So, Loki knows where Kai lives. Not a large flat, that one. Certainly no signs of a room-mate on his previous visits. And yet….there's an evening when the Smith of Lies comes to call on his fellow creature of Asgard, with intentions either pure or impure as heart and hormone dictates, only to find someone else sitting in Kai's kitchen. A rather ragged-looking young man, wearing a henley shirt, old jeans, and with longish brown hair tied loosely at his nape. He's sitting at the table, munching thoughtfully on a sandwich. A PB&J by the look of it…and all with the calm of someone who has a perfect right to be there.
*
Loki has a key, though, he's aware the door doesn't totally work, and so it could be that Bucky may expect for Kai to come around the corner. Instead, what comes around the corner into the kitchen is an entirely different…night and day different, person. "Kai, I have washed the…" He is holding a pair of wire hangers with plastic around the articles of clothing. He stops his words cold when he sees the other person and for a moment he looks around to make sure he didn't just walk into someone else's apartment. Then he frowns. "Who are you?"
*
Can't be - there're those oh so distinctive paintings, Kai's painstaking work. He finishes chewing, swallows, and says, in a voice that somehow seems rusty, "'m Jack. Kai knows me. Who're you?" His face is impassive, almost weirdly so. No overt curiosity, no raised brows or surprise, just a kind of deadpan. The gravelly voice is equally inexpressive, for the moment.
*
Loki holds out his arm and hangs the laundry on the hook that would normally be for keys, his verdant gaze locked on the casual sandwich eater. "Jack. I am…Serrure." He says it with a perfect French inflection, though his accent for the rest of his words seems British. There is a fluidity about his language that brings the words depth. He is crafting the words, not just speaking them. "Kai knows me as well. What are you doing here, /Jack/?" His own curiosity is evident and his posture angles towards pantheric.
*
The pale gaze that meets his is curiously opaque, uninterested. "Serrure, eh?" His pronunciation's surprisingly good, if not flawless. The question as to what he's doing here only gets a gesture towards the other half of the sandwich. Eating, clearly, Prince of Asgard. "I can make you one, if you want. There's more jelly and peanut butter in the fridge." Apparently Kai's given him permission…..or perhaps Buck's just a believer in the doctrine that it's easier to get forgiveness than permission. There's a ragged coat by the door, old military surplus, clearly.
*
Loki does not seem amused. Thin lips spread into a smile, but it doesn't hit his eyes. He tips his chin down, and looks at the ground for a moment, before flicking his gaze back to Jack. "You know, Jack…" he begins, the words conversational, but the tone is flirtaceous, charming. "I meant why are you eating lunch in someone else's apartment…" He threads a pale hand through his dark hair. His long legs take him nearer to the gravel-voiced fellow and he stops once he's closer and surveys the vagabond with a critical air.
*
There's a kind of wariness that bleeds into his gaze, the suspicion of an animal too often beaten, bracing for a blow. He doesn't tense, exactly, as he gazes up at Loki, but there's an energy that wasn't present before. "Because Kai's too kind for his own good, and he feeds me sometimes. Even helps me when I get hurt," he admits. "So, who're you when you're at home, Mister Serrure?" There's an odd scent in the air - happily, this human's bathed enough, and recently enough, that he doesn't smell at all like one might expect a vagrant veteran living rough to smell…..though it becomes clear that Buck's made free with Kai's shower as well as his fridge, for that dark hair isn't slicked back, but merely wet, the ends of the ponytail curling at his nape. But beneath the scent of soap, there's the tang of warmed metal.
*
Loki drops himself into the chair opposite Jack, his black hair dusting his shoulders. The source of the metal is throwing him, for its not visually obvious, though his roving and reviewing gaze certainly searches for a threat. "I am a bookseller." He liiiiiies and tells the truth, all at once. "Have you seen…other people using his shower, eating his food?" he arches his brows, slightly patronizing in his tone but also definitely interested. For a man who can sense threats, this fellow in his stupid sweatervest carries himself unafraid, predatorial. He sits with legs spread wide, like he's possessing something larger than a kitchen chair.
*
"No," admits Jack, lazily. "But I'm not around here much. 'm not his room-mate. I know he's a softhearted sucker, I'm sure he feeds other charity cases." He eyes Loki over the table, with that kind of impassive distance. As if the other man's opinion really doesn't weigh with him at all. "So, if you're not a fellow charity case, how d' you know Kai?" The man across doesn't seem dangerous. He's left his left arm, the hand gloved, lying on the table, unmoving, but the other seems normal enough. He's got a glass of milk and takes a long drink, adam's apple bobbing.
*
"We are friends. I met him in the park. How did the two of you meet?"Loki probes a little more, though, he also seems more relaxed the longer he interacts with the low key fellow. He runs the pads of his fingers back and forth on the table.
*
It's nice to have a set of memories long enough to make a chain. Jack slants an unreadable look at Loki, past the rim of his glass, before he sets it down deliberately. "In a bar not far from here. He bought me a drink. And then he brought me here." All stated deliberately, as if there isn't a logical conclusion to that little string of facts. "Like I said, too kind for his own good." ….is he some bit of rough Kai's picked up?
*
"Are you putting him in danger with your presence? You say he's too kind for his own good…as if you are not worth the trouble. Kai can handle himself. What can you handle, I wonder. Someone like you could…blend in seamlessly with invisible society." Uh oh. Now Loki is getting ideas.
*
That may've been a shot in the dark, but it's struck home. His gaze sharpens at that, a little line appearing between his brows. Not as young as he looks at first glance. "I hope not," he says, slowly. "But…." He shrugs, and there's a faint, metallic rasping. "I dunno. Used to think I was pretty tough, back when I was inna Army. But…." He gestures at himself with his free hand. "Down on my luck, health's not so good…"
*
Loki stands up, abruptly. He makes a humming sound. "Perhaps we will find out. I trust you are not going to /steal/ anything besides that food, lest you want me catching up to you." He's noticed the metallic rasp, but there's a question of being somewhat uncertain if he's one of Kai's friends or not. He will linger to see if Jack goes away on his own after the sandwich.
*
At that, he looks offended. "I'm not a thief," he says, flatly. And that's apparently needling enough, for Jack gets up, washes out the dishes he used, and leaves them to dry .All without another word to Loki. Then he's shrugging on that coat, and heading for the stairs.