[ thor relents, momentarily, letting loki move his hand and take his drink. maybe it's something of a win that their hands touched at all — it couldn't have been only him who felt a spark, like lightning or flint against stone — even if thor hasn't a clue what's going on in loki's head. is he interested? is he not? it's hard to say, really (though most days thor is convinced he is), and perhaps that's just the nature of the game. he'll have to keep playing to find his answers. ]
[ he folds his arms across his chest, more to have somewhere to put his hands than anything else, his eyes still trained on loki, searching for anything that might give his intentions away. he knows a deflection when he sees one, but this isn't some magic trick. it's something ... more complicated than that, he thinks. magic is an art loki has perfected; this is uncharted territory, for both of them, perhaps. ]
And then what? [ there's an invitation there, in the tone of his voice and the corner of his mouth, if only loki would take it. ]
no subject
[ he folds his arms across his chest, more to have somewhere to put his hands than anything else, his eyes still trained on loki, searching for anything that might give his intentions away. he knows a deflection when he sees one, but this isn't some magic trick. it's something ... more complicated than that, he thinks. magic is an art loki has perfected; this is uncharted territory, for both of them, perhaps. ]
And then what? [ there's an invitation there, in the tone of his voice and the corner of his mouth, if only loki would take it. ]