Feb. 13th, 2015

mjolnir_retriever: Thor grinning cheerfully (cheerful floppy puppy)
"Spiced wine," Thor requests of Bar, with a companionable slap of greeting to her polished surface.

He gets a goblet, faintly steaming. But he also gets a napkin.

"Well enough," he agrees, and vaults easily over the bar.

His court armor he banishes in favor of the deep red tunic and trousers he was wearing before that. (A little informal for a public meadhall, to his mind, but that's what chutzpah is for -- and anyway, it's not as if most people here know the subtleties of Asgardian fashion anyway. They're nothing indecent, just the sparkly royal space disco Viking equivalent of lounging around in an old t-shirt and yoga pants.) His hammer gets deposited in an out-of-the-way corner, and he sets about investigating options for specials.

Soon the sign reads:


Spiced wine
Spiced cider

There's a pot of each simmering away over a very low flame. Thor knows his own cooking skills: he got the mulling spices pre-mixed from Bar before she went to sleep.


mjolnir_retriever: Thor in armor looking shiny with a dramatic sky behind him (Default)
Thor, son of Odin

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