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    Summary

    "Sheriff Mobius," Odin said, with the thinnest veneer of civility. "You wish to compete?"

    "Yes, your majesty," said Mobius, with the thinnest veneer of fealty. "I know I'm not exactly royalty, but I'm the closest thing my little district could scrape up."

    There was a ripple of laughter in the crowd, though whether they were laughing with or at Mobius, Loki couldn't tell. Most likely at. It didn't matter. 

    "Oh, dear," said Loki. "I just remembered, there's no requirement that the suitors be royalty. Must have slipped my mind when I was coming up with the rules."

    [There's a tournament for Loki's hand. He may have a trick or two up his sleeve.]

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