"They love you best when you're doing exactly what they want you to," Loki says dryly. "Yes, Odin was the same way. Not that he was ever particularly effusive, but he used to tell me stories when I was little."

He leans back, resting his elbows on the back of the bench behind him. "God of mischief, lies, outcasts--" he begins, and then something in his face absolutely lights up. Patron god of all queer kids? He matters to someone, then. Still, after all his mistakes and all these centuries.

"It used to be Loptr, for the wind," he says. "But Loki suits me far better. I wouldn't presume anything about your world, but I am the Loki in mine. And I love a seidrmadr and a shape-changer."