Loki -17-

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A rather handsome man sauntered into your small bar in downtown Brooklyn, wearing a serious expression with determination shining in his eyes and a rather medieval, fantastical outfit

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A rather handsome man sauntered into your small bar in downtown Brooklyn, wearing a serious expression with determination shining in his eyes and a rather medieval, fantastical outfit. "Can I get you anything to drink?" you asked. It was a slow night, with not many people here. A group of girls at the end of the bar giggled and pointed at the man, obviously intrigued by his good looks, but he ignored them entirely, seating himself with a toss of his coattails on a bar stool before you. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a large crash echoed through the establishment. You, used to drunken break-ins, grabbed the dual katanas you kept under the bar for emergencies and flipped over the counter, hurrying to deal with the intruder.

The crash had come from a man, dressed just as oddly as your latest customer, knocking the door off his hinges and shouting something about 'Loki'. You frowned, readying your blades calmly, and replied to his shouting coolly, "Leave now, pal. I'm not in the mood to deal with your nonsense." The man arrogantly tried to push you aside, but you had no patience for his bullshit. A quick fight ensued, in which two windows were smashed, one table made into splinters, and multiple taps burst. In the end, the man left begrudgingly, and you retreated back to the counter, your katanas slung over each shoulder. The man who had come in right before the intruder was on the floor, hiding behind a nearby table, and he looked at you with stunned admiration.

"I'll have that drink now."

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