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Summary
Loki was still seething when he strode into the clothing store. He simply could not believe he'd had his best suit ruined by some clumsy teenager and their mocha latte three days before the most important business meeting of his life. His hands trembled with the need to grab someone by the throat or break some offending object. Other than that, his affected demeanour was as poised as always. He strode to the counter past multiple clothing racks that smelled like stifling weddings and pretentious cocktail parties.