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“Do you ever take a proper break?” Loki asks, looking up from the more than boring file in front of them.
Mobius narrows his eyes. “I go home whenever work allows.”
Loki leans back in their chair, amusement running over their face. “And here I was, thinking you don’t need sleep.”
“Technically, I don’t, but rest is recommended if one feels like recharging.”
“Recharging. You’re putting your fingers in a socket or what? I knew you couldn’t survive on these tiny salads in the cafeteria.”
Mobius rolls his eyes.
“Soooo,” Loki grins. “Tell me about your home. Are you sharing a room or…?” They tilt their head and raise a questioning eyebrow.
Mobius huffs a laugh. “It may not be a palace, but it’s a nice little apartment with all the amenities a home should have.”
“Queen or king sized bed?” Loki asks, propping up their arms on the table. Mobius huffs in annoyance and taps his fingers on Loki’s file. “Walk-in-shower? A bath tub? I bet you love taking baths,” the god smirks.
“Loki!” Mobius warns.
“Come on! You know everything about me. I don’t even know your first name.”
“Mobius.”
“Your name is Mobius Mobius?”
The time agent shrugs. “The TVA created me. It’s a miracle I even have a name.”
“Huh,” Loki voices and furrows their brow. “So… Are you a bather?”
Mobius groans. “I should’ve let them prune you.”
Loki raises their hands in a placating manner. “Alright. Excuse my curiosity. I’m sure your flat is just as boring as your desk.”
“It’s not boring!” Mobius insists, and Loki grins.
Gotcha!
“This chair is really killing my back,” the god of mischief groans. “Do you have a sofa in your sweet little condo for me to stretch my legs and rest my eyes for a nap?”
Mobius works his jaw for several seconds, then his whole body shrinks barely noticeable. But Loki knows they have won.
“Alright. I could use a shower anyway,” Mobius concedes.
Loki beams at him and jumps off their chair, already slipping into their ugly Variant jacket before Mobius pushes his chair backwards.
“I’m gonna regret this,” the agent mumbles under his breath, but Loki acts as if they didn’t hear it.
They follow Mobius in silence, trying to save as many details as possible to their memory. Who knows when this might come in useful? Of course, they take different elevators, some that seem to move sideways. That might explain the little traffic on the surface.
It takes them several minutes and uncounted long corridors between different elevator shafts, but finally, the last lift opens, and Mobius pulls a keycard out of the inner pocket of his jacket. He leads Loki to the door furthest away from the elevator and opens it.
Mobius slips out of his shoes and puts them on a rack that holds an exact duplicate, a pair of slippers and running shoes.
“You’re doing sports?” Loki asks, surprised. Just an hour ago, they didn’t even know that there was something like loose time in this place.
“It’s part of our schedule,” Mobius replies.
Loki shakes their head. “Is there anything that isn’t scheduled and planned for?”
Mobius grins. “Variants like you.” He looks pointedly at Loki’s feet and walks into the flat.
Loki slips out of their uncomfortable shoes and kicks them into a corner, wiggling their toes to relax them after hours (days?) in their confinement.
The living room actually has a sofa, they find out as they step in the open-plan space, even a TV set with video and DVD player, which is good as there are hundreds of VHS cassettes and dics piled up on the floor.
“Where did you get these?” Loki asks, picking up a VHS with Disney’s Fantasia. They turn the cover for Mobius to see and knit their eyebrows together.
Mobius shrugs. “Souvenirs.”
“You steal them?”
“I borrow them from a timeline that is to be restored anyway.”
Loki scoffs. “Borrow? If that’s the case, I’ve never told a single lie in my whole life.”
Mobius disappears in the kitchen part of his flat and returns with a bottle of coke. “Want something borrowed?” he asks, smirking at them. “Or is the god of mischief too honest for that?”
Loki chuckles. “You’re more mischievous than I thought, Mobius Mobius.”
“It’s Mobius M. Mobius, actually.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“Nope,” Mobius says, letting the P pop.
“And no one ever says something?” Loki asks, gesturing to the things filling the room that clearly weren’t created by the space lizards.
“As long as it doesn’t affect the mission…”
Loki walks over to the shelves next to the telly. They take a music box and open it. The ballerina doesn’t move to the music. “It’s broken,” they say, shaking it.
Mobius takes the box out of their hand and puts it back on the shelf with cautious movements.
“I like broken things,” he all but whispers.
Loki furrows their brow and lets their gaze wander over the other displayed items—a broken vase with its pieces glued together, a teddy bear with a missing eye, two pieces of a hewn stone that clearly once belonged together, a large shell with a thin fissure going through its whole length.
Loki turns to Mobius, lips moving with unfound words.
“Will you laugh at me?” the agent asks, vulnerability barely concealed with anger.
“No. Why would I?” Loki asks, trying their best to keep the sadness tightening their chest out of their voice. “I’m just wondering why? You could take everything.”
Mobius shrugs. “They remind me of my purpose.”
Loki blinks at him for a long moment, then nods. “Makes sense,” they say, returning their gaze to the shelves. “Is this why you specialised in Lokis?” they ask, voice cracking.
Now it’s Mobius’ turn to look like a fish gasping for air.
Loki chuckles without mirth. Maybe Mobius wouldn’t even understand the description.
“You’re not broken, Loki. You’re… incredible. Following all these versions of you is fascinating, fun even.”
“More fun than children’s movies?” Loki asks but doesn’t wait for an answer. “At least you don’t have to kill all these things you’re stealing.”
Mobius breathes a sigh and steps closer. “I don’t enjoy hurting these variants either. But it’s necessary.”
“For the sake of the Sacred Timeline,” Loki parrots.
Silence falls between them for a long minute. “Do you wanna take a bath?” Mobius asks. “I sometimes steal bath additives when I find myself in a supermarket or a mall.”
Loki chuckles. “So you are a bather.”
Mobius shushes them. “Don’t tell anybody,” he whispers, quirking a smile. “I’m also an okay cook. Wanna take a bath while I cook something that isn’t salad? Because that’s really the only edible thing in the cafeteria.”
Loki smirks and nods. “Yeah. Sounds great.”
Mobius points to the bathroom door. “Towels are in the cabinet. Hairdryer’s under the sink.”
Loki huffs a laugh and shakes their head. They look at Mobius pulling ingredients out of his larder.
They work their jaw.
This man may be a collector of broken things, but he’s the closest to a friend Loki has ever had. They don’t know what binds them together—destiny, maybe—but they are glad to be at his side.
Loki takes a last look at the shelves, filled with broken things as if they were precious artefacts in a museum. Maybe they are.
They wish they could leave something personal behind for when they’ll either be pruned or betray their friend to find freedom. It’s a stupid, sentimental thought, of course.
Still, later, when the two return to the piles of files still waiting for them, Loki relishes the thought that even when they’ll leave this place one way or another, this stolen moments won’t get lost in time—a god taking a bath in a friend's tub and a delicious pasta dish shared in front of the telly, with dancing hippos on the screen and laughter in between.