Damien sighed, closing his eyes against the sudden desire to cry. “Look, I don’t give a shit what you think about me, there are plenty of people who know me much better who have just cause to dislike me, but you’re just an ass. Either you let me help you, or you get out of my apartment. I’m really not in the mood to deal with another jerk.”
Loki squinted at them. “What is an apartment? Is it like a palace or something?” Imp tilted their head. “And how would you be able to help me, human?”
"What an apart– Are you from another planet?" Damien mutters in exasperation. "Oh, of course, you are, shape-shifting cat, after all. Geez." Running a hand through his messy hair, he sighs. "I'll help you get cleaned up and bandaged and get you some food. You obviously need all of those things, and, as irritating as you are, I won't ditch you without at least trying to help."
"I'm not from another planet. You mean you don't know who I am? Unbelievable." Loki stood up and glared at them. "I'm from Asgard, mortal. I'm the child of Odin himself, for Helheim's sake!"
Irritated and unimpressed, Damien remained seated. “Like the Norse god?” his eyebrows rose. “You know what, sure. The shapeshifter bit fits the profile. Then why in the Nine Realms did you crash into my car in cat mode?”
"YES LIKE THE GOD," Loki said, stamping their foot. "You're unbelievably dense. And I don't see why I'm obligated to answer that question, or why you're entitled to know, human."
"Well, first, you crashed into my car, secondly, I carried you home, and thirdly, I am trying to help you!" Damien said slowly and with much exasperation. "Stop acting like a brat and get over yourself."
Loki’s eyes smoldered and their eyebrows drew close together. “I was banished,” they hissed. “If you must know. And why would I believe that you’re going to help me?”
"Oh." Though his irritation did not lessen entirely, Damien's eyes softened slightly. Being thrown from your home… he could relate to that. "Well, I am sorry to hear that, and I do suppose you have no reason to trust me. I don't know what to tell you to convince you that I want to help."
“Yes, if the tuna incident is anything to go off of.” Loki watched them carefully, and after a moment of scrutinizing them, held out their hand. “Fine. I’ll let you help me if you tell me your name.”
Damien huffed a laugh. "Damien Faust, it's a pleasure to meet you, Loki," he said, taking the other's hand in his own and shaking it lightly.
Loki curled their lip. “I don’t see what’s funny about this,” they said. “However, if you still want to mother me, I am hungry.”
Damien rolled his eyes and turned away, heading towards the kitchen. "I can make chicken strips and mac n' cheese, will that suit you, oh god of mischief?"
Loki scowled, shifted into a cat and hopped up on the counter, then shifted back. “I don’t know what mac n’ cheese is,” they said, crossing their feet at imp’s ankles. They chose to ignore the rest of Damien’s comment, leaning back on their hands.
"It's delicious is what it is," Damien said, grabbing the boxes of mac n' cheese from the cabinet. "It's my main comfort food. Super simple, but I've got good memories around it."
“Hm.” Loki watched Damien closely, their posture stiff and defensive. “As long as it won’t cause me to drop dead, I don’t care what it is.”
Damien couldn't help but laugh at that, even though he knew the other would be annoyed. "Don't worry, it won't hurt you. You might even like it," he teased.
Loki raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t tuna, and I’ll give you a point for that.” They wrinkled their nose. “Really, I don’t see what’s so funny about this.”
"I use humor as a coping mechanism," Damien said with a shrug, dumping the pasta into the boiling water. "You should try it sometime, cat boy."
“I’m not a boy,” Loki said, peering over Damien’s shoulder. “Why would you put it in water?”
"Kitten, then," Damien grinned and turned back to stir the pasta, making sure it didn't clump together. "The pasta softens in the boiling water, which makes it tastier and easier to eat."
“Do not call me kitten. Especially when there are knives within my reach.” Loki’s hands twitched, like they were about to go for the knives.
"Oh, so kitten's got claws, huh?" Damien sassed, not particularly afraid. Which, if he thought about it too much, probably wasn't healthy. Eh.
Loki's hand jumped up onto the counter, and they snarled, "You're toeing the line, pal." Their hand inched toward the knives, their eyes locked on Damien.
"C'est la vie," Damien responded with a shrug. "Go ahead and stab me, I don't particularly care, but if I'm bleeding out, who will make the Mac n' cheese?"