[The way Loki smiles at him makes Iofast's stomach pull a little half-flip, a needlessly acrobatic manoeuvre that sends his own answering grin wobbling foolishly. There has always been that flickering warmth between them, that gravity, and each brush and unguarded look only conjures memories of something brighter and warmer and so vivid it feels like only days ago.]

Only chess and dancing? No wonder you are given to such poor spirits.

[He gestures down the lane, in the direction he's been told that Loki's house lies.]

Let us see what a little mead does for your interest.