Ambrose's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he made his way to Loki's table. The latter didn't move, watching him with the same amusement one would give a puppy doing a trick.
And oh, did that make Ambrose even more pissed.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Loki's eyes flitted around with mock cluelessness. Until their eyes locked on Ambrose again.
"Oh? You're talking to me?" They chuckled, taking a long sip from their wine. "Nothing much. Just enjoying the scenery. And waiting for my order actually."
"You're stalking me. That's what you're fucking doing."
"Careful," Loki's head tilted. "You're talking to a member of the Pantheon. The most powerful group on the planet."
"I don't care if you're a freaking messenger of God himself." Ambrose palmed a hand on the table. "Stay away from me. I'll be forced to file a report against you at the—"
"So you do know," Loki grinned. "That I'm Leon."
The question took Ambrose by surprise.
He blinked once.
