WHO:
yousonofabat and YOU
WHAT: Holy short orders, Batman!
WHERE: The diner in TorC
WHEN: anytime this week
WARNINGS: overwhelming optimism
SUMMARY: Steph serves up fresh quips and artery-clogging diner fare. Come and be her friend and give her tips.
(
your boldness stands alone among the wreck )
[ Don and Oklahoma are two reasons to blame Thor's reason for being here-- that and diner food wasn't terrible at all. Kind of like Kraft mac and cheese when you were a kid, it's one of those pleasures that comforts you with familiar things than anything having to do with the quality of the food itself. When Thor walks in, he definitely stands out in a crowd, all 6'4" 640 pounds of armor-clad Viking. He takes a seat as though everything is completely ordinary, and drops Mjolnir onto the table with a considerable thud. ]
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Normally, I'd ask you to leave your weapons at the coat rack, but I'll make an exception for you and your awesome hammer of smackdown.
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If it should make the others more comfortable, I can do this for you.
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[ did she mean that in an innuendo? PROBABLY NOT. She's smiling widely. ]
What can I do for you, Thor?
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Chicken and waffles, milady.
[ A pause. ]
Please.
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Motherfucking Thor likes waffles.
It's like finding out Jesus digs that band you're into. ]
Chicken and waffles it is, Son of Odin.
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...I will not speak of these things until I myself am certain. Asgard may yet be safeguarded, and our worries unfounded.
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