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"Do we really have to do this again?" Mobius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a way that only made Loki more curious about the dent in it. "Haven't you gotten enough satisfaction out of causing chaos yet?"
"Oh, Mobius, you of all people should know that I'm never satisfied with the amount of chaos I've caused," Loki chirped brightly, pushing back from Mobius's desk where he'd been left alone for just long enough for Mobius to go refill his coffee cup, which was more than long enough to turn several sheets of paper into a flotilla of ships.
"What'd you destroy this time?"
"Destroy? Hardly," Loki scoffed. "What I've improved is this deadly dull transcription of what was supposedly the precious final words of a few dozen victims of apocalypse..." He lifted one paper boat and looked at the front of it where the header of the page still showed. "Zeta-zeta nine plural zeta alpha..." Nose wrinkling at the unwieldy designation, he went on, "but actually was just a whole lot of cursing and praying and nothing of any real use."
"Disrespectful," Mobius tutted, and waved Loki out of his chair, pretending there wasn't a laugh lurking under his mustache. "Utterly shameless. And what's this supposed to be, anyways?"
"Funereal fleet! A conveyance to the beyond for those dearly departed who had nothing better to say in their last moments than the same boring shit almost everyone says when confronted with their abrupt ending." Loki gestured grandly with the ship in his hand.
"And where exactly do you mean to send this fleet off from?" Mobius asked, and sipped gingerly at his still-too-hot coffee.
"Well, I was planning on dropping them over the railing and letting them fall where they may. Since I haven't seen anything resembling a body of water since I've gotten to this place."
"Great, you want to get arrested for littering on top of fucking with the Sacred Timeline," Mobius said dryly. When Loki looked up at him, brows arched in surprise, he found a smirk on Mobius's lips. "And you made each of these out of one page? That's... kinda impressive."
"I could show you how," Loki said eagerly, leaning his hip against Mobius's desk and reaching for an unfolded page.
"We don't have time for games."
"We have all the time in the universe," Loki argued, "and I haven't seen you do anything for fun, Mobius, you can't be all business all the time, even a paper-pusher like you has to have some amusement in his life now and then."
"You're all the amusement I need, Loki, you have been for centuries," Mobius said, blinked twice at his confession, and looked down into his coffee cup. Astonished, Loki realized there was a faint blush rising to Mobius's cheeks, and thoughtlessly reached up to brush the backs of his fingers across one cheek just to verify the heat for himself. "Can we get back to work now?" Mobius's plaintive grumble came as he leaned just the slightest bit into Loki's touch.
"For now," Loki said, thoughts tumbling over each other in their haste to be acknowledged: I'm his amusement? For centuries? Did he just say I'm all he needs? He's cute when he blushes— "But I'll get you to have fun one way or another," he added, half threat and half promise, grinning when Mobius's blush intensified.