"I want tea," Loki made this pronouncement in the sulking, pleading tone of voice that surely drove his sainted mother insane for centuries.
Darcy sighed, tore her eyes from the book she was reading, and thoroughly enjoying, and glanced at him over the rims of her glasses.
"See, that sounds like a personal problem, and thus doesn't fall under my realm of responsibility." Her phone caw-cawed.
Ignoring Loki, and his stink eye, she swiped the text alert that was automatically routed to her StarkTab. "The team is back. Sam wants to go over the performance of his new wings."
Loki didn't move, didn't say anything, just stood there. Staring.
Darcy wasn't about to be the first to break their strange little stalemate, so she attempted to get back to her book, Nights on Fire.
"Are you reading that drek again? How is that more important than seeing to my needs?"
He wouldn't provoke her. He wouldn't. "I'm on my company mandated lunch break.
I'm relaxing, and you are perfectly capable of walking the fifteen feet to the dispenser and saying, 'Black tea, four sugars.' " she said this while vainly attempting to concentrate on her book.
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