A Whole Bunch of Loki's

God of Rock - Part Two

The dressing room was bigger than you would have believed from the outside, the building's small appearance being deceivingly small compared to the inside.

Loki sat across from you on the peach coloured couch that had seen better days, one leg crossed over the other with his book laying atop the raised leg, you were perched on the edge of the matching coloured chair.

There was a terrible lingering silence as his eyes flickered between you and the pages in his book, his expression calm and never changing.

You were trying to ignore his stare while fiddling with your recorder, which had picked now of all times to not work as smoothly as it typically did.

Eventually, you managed to get it working and set it down on the table sitting between you both, giving Loki an awkward smile as you shifted back in the chair and rested an open notebook on your lap, pen poised ready to take other notes.

"Sorry about that," you said meekly.

"It's alright, I've had worse beginnings to interviews."

"I dread to think," you laughed then looked down at your notebook, "okay, let's get started then I suppose."

"No time better than the present."

"Exactly, thank you for having me."

"It's my pleasure."

"So, I was hoping we could start with your band name and possibly your name, Loki."

"What about it?"

"Well, is that your actual name? Or did you and Thor go with them for the stage aliases?"

The next thirty minutes consisted of you reading off questions you had prepared and noted down, knowing that you would completely forget what you wanted to ask once you were face to face with a man who had been in more than a few of your dreams, some less than savoury.

By the time you reached the end of your page, it hadn't felt as though thirty minutes had past, or twenty-seven if you wanted to get technical.

As he'd answered, you jotted down notes of expressions or gestures he made, anything that you could add into the interview to spruce it up a little bit, including the title of the book he had been reading.

Occasionally, you found your eyes lingering over him as he answered the questions, taking in the way he moved as he spoke and picked up on little ticks he had.

You hoped he hadn't noticed and if he had, he hadn't said anything.

"Those were all the questions I had," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the clock above his head, "and we still have another thirty minutes."

Loki nodded slowly, not making to move.

"Well," he started, "we can either end it here now that you have what you want, or we can talk casually for a little while."

"I wouldn't want to waste your time."

"I would only be reading otherwise, I can catch up easily."

You nodded and smiled, watching as he took a sip from his drink, a tall glass of wine.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought that he didn't want you leaving, not just yet.

This man went against everything that you had imagined a rock star to be.

The stereotype was that he would be loud, boisterous and chugging beers, maybe with a few scantily clad women on his arm with drugs scattered about the room and instead you were met with a well cleaned man who would rather have an evening with wine and a good book.