Summer smacked herself in the forehead. “A little something about you not caring, I think it was. I’m just saying, if you’re this upset because you accidentally got him stoned — oh, never mind. Just never mind. Look, he’s fine. He’s very happy right now, and in a couple hours it will wear off, and you should try to give him a smaller dose next time.” She sighed. “Why in the world is the only thing that gets you wound up a /cat/?”
“I never said I didn’t care!” Loki fumed, “As I recall, that was a conclusion you drew yourself. I didn’t GIVE him the dose, he climbed up on the cabinets and ate the whole bloody bag!”
“You work pretty hard to push people to that conclusion, Loki. Liemaster,” Summer drawled. “How’s that working out, that lying to yourself bit?” She ignored his tale of Cat’s antics. Cats did that. Generally speaking, they knew their own limits. Loki, apparently, didn’t.
“Liesmith,” Loki hissed, scooping Cat up into the crook of his arm, his hands gentle on his pet despite his visible anger. “And who are you, mortal, to speak to me thus!”
It wasn’t really a question. He spun on his heel and stalked towards the door, fairly radiating rage.
“An empath, you idiot,” Summer shot back, leaning on her hands. “Did you not pay any attention the first time we met?”