It has really been an unfairly crowded few days. Few weeks, in fact. Or years.
Never let it be said that Loki outstays his welcome, unless that's the whole point, but when the Grandmaster had decided he and the Scrapper ought to compete to find the Hulk first, with an entertaining death hanging in the balance, it had been clear it was time to move on. Yes, the Scrapper—the Valkyrie—had put a few dents into that idea, and Loki's idiot brother hadn't helped. Trying to turn Thor and Banner in for the reward hadn't been personal. They would have found a way to escape again. Probably. Either way, Loki would have been gone, with a lovely nest egg to ensure he could truly disappear.
Except Thor had, incredibly, anticipated Loki's treachery this time, and left him twitching under an obedience disc. It had felt like hours before Loki had been able to focus well enough to draw the controller back to him with magic, and then out of spite he'd stolen the Valkyrie's ship instead. It didn't matter that he'd avoided the Devil's Anus and used a different portal. It had ripped the fragile craft to shreds and tumbled Loki through space once more—
—and then he's spat out. Somewhere else.
Before Loki has time to take in much more than the sky, the oddity beyond the sky, and the expanse of spiky-looking mountains rising rapidly around him, he impacts with the ground and nothing matters for a little while. Very slowly, his mind returns as he heals. The first thing that occurs is that the Hulk had somehow followed him to exact further revenge using his favorite method, but he cannot hear that telltale roar. This place is surprisingly peaceful, in fact, now that the dust has settled. The sun feels warm on his face, he hears the hum of insects—and a voice.
"Alive, yes," he calls back, voice roughened from the dust, probably the injuries. Can he sit up yet? Yes, if he goes carefully. Sitting up means being able to look around and locate the speaker, and offer what he hopes is a reassuring, harmless smile. "Good morning. Or...afternoon?"
When Loki looks like he's struggling to sit, moving gingerly, Cal can't override his instinct to step closer and cast a concerned eye up and down the man to see if there's any obvious trauma that needs immediate attention, like rips or blaster holes in his strange outfit or blood and bruises anywhere visible. The situation is weird, granted, and the guy's casual attitude considering the circumstances is also a little strange... but if someone needs help than they need help. (Never mind that he's already been lectured about his hero complex by Greez twice in the last few days, that's neither here nor there.)
Surely the Force would warn him if this were dangerous. The thing with Dagan was... different. Or something. The fallen Jedi was just as connected to the Force as Cal is, not that Cal knows for sure that Loki isn't in his own way. Listen... "Definitely afternoon," he agrees, tone light and breezy even though he's still trying to judge how hurt Loki may or may not be, before figuring the quickest way to judge will be offering the god a hand to help him stand up if he needs it. "I haven't seen you around before." Wow, now he's even talking like a local. Feels weird, but he's been so much of a busybody on Koboh for the last few weeks that he's fairly sure he knows every face and almost every name of all the prospectors in the area. Loki definitely does not look like one of the raiders or the recently arrived Imps, either. "Did you just, uh..." he steals a glance around the crater that they're standing in, which notably doesn't contain any intact starship or escape pod. "Land?"
Normally he tries not to pry. Force knows his life has been saved more than once by strangers not questioning him too much, but the situation is too bizarre to keep all his curiosity at bay until he can poke around with psychometry, like a cheater. He shakes his head to get himself back on track and follows up with: "Are you alright? My buddy's got stims if you're hurt." He tilts his head deliberately to one side to make room for BD-1 to pop up over his shoulder and beep out an affirmative about the offer.
Loki does accept the hand up. Why not? It's a friendly gesture, and until he's gotten the lay of this new land, he isn't about to turn away any of those. Besides, he's still quite stiff and it's helpful to have someone pull, or rather to yank surprisingly strongly. Once he's achieved standing on two legs, he stretches his back with a little groan.
"Ah—yes," he says, looking up at the sky, brushing idly at his dust-caked shoulders and arms. It makes almost no difference. The blue leather has held up, sort of, but it will never be quite the same. "I seem to have just recently dropped in, as it were. Thank you for your help. Might I ask where I have ended up?"
But before the question gets an answer, a little robot appears and chirps at him, and the Allspeak actually works on it. Loki can understand what it's saying. Which means it's actually alive in some way, and isn't that interesting? "I have certainly fared better. What is a stim, exactly?" And what manner of mechanical creature will provide it to him? Loki peers at it, curious about what in that array of circuits and wires has granted it sentience.
Okay, Cal definitely has to figure out what happened to this guy, because those are two questions that he wouldn't expect out of a person who is where they are supposed to be. He did, in fact, learn his lesson from Dagan though and decides not to pile too much on the man just yet. Give him a second to breathe, or something.
So for now, he just finds himself grinning as BD-1 visibly preens under Loki's curious gaze. "Bacta and stimulants. For combat healing." A beat. It's definitely not something most people carry around, but Cal and Normal had a not-so-amicable split about a decade ago, so he barely remembers to hurriedly tack on: "It can get pretty dicey out here." Nailed it! Now it's not suspicious at all. BD-1 clambers up onto Cal's shoulder fully, as though to take back the spotlight and save his awkward human, primly dipping his little head so Loki can see the stim canister as he pops it out for Cal to catch out of the air reflexively. BD-1 more helpfully rattles off a list of the chemical components of the neon green stimulant to make up for Cal's vague answer, because the droid always operates on the assumption that he'll be understood.
Cal offers the little canister in an open palm, in case Loki is interested. He doesn't look too hurt now, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe he's got an insane pain tolerance. Either way, Cal gestures around them, above their dusty little crater. "Well, right now you're in Dredger Gorge." He doesn't imagine that's particularly helpful. "On Koboh, if that's what you mean." Cal has crash landed in enough mystery locales (don't tell Greez) that he figures it doesn't hurt to specify. "Did you mean to land here?" It's not exactly a hot tourist destination planet, after all, and Loki does not appear prepared for prospecting (no offence and/or you're welcome, Loki.)
Well done, Cal, you haven't drawn Loki's attention at all with "combat healing." So, this place is beset by war, is it? He glances around again, but apart from the rickety machinery briskly falling to pieces around the edges of his crater, the peaceful insect buzzes and distant bird calls continue. Even if there is enough battle on Koboh—wherever that is—to require carrying such things, it doesn't seem to be an immediate problem in Dredger Gorge.
"Dredger Gorge? What an unromantic name." Neatly avoiding the question of whether he'd meant to land here, Loki peers at the green and glowing vial. It's a rather unsettling shade that reminds him more of his newly-discovered older sister than of his own favored colors. But he doubts Hela would have anything to do with something healing-related. She probably thinks healing is for cowards. Either don't get injured or die, give your all, that would be Hela's way.
"Well, I have no idea what bacta is, but I could use a stimulant. Thank you," he says specifically to BD-1, and before either of them can react, Loki has neatly picked up the vial, popped the top open, and swallowed down the contents. He makes a face and coughs, and looks at it with distaste. "That's disgusting. I hope it's effective. ...my stomach feels warm, does that mean it's working?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Never let it be said that Loki outstays his welcome, unless that's the whole point, but when the Grandmaster had decided he and the Scrapper ought to compete to find the Hulk first, with an entertaining death hanging in the balance, it had been clear it was time to move on. Yes, the Scrapper—the Valkyrie—had put a few dents into that idea, and Loki's idiot brother hadn't helped. Trying to turn Thor and Banner in for the reward hadn't been personal. They would have found a way to escape again. Probably. Either way, Loki would have been gone, with a lovely nest egg to ensure he could truly disappear.
Except Thor had, incredibly, anticipated Loki's treachery this time, and left him twitching under an obedience disc. It had felt like hours before Loki had been able to focus well enough to draw the controller back to him with magic, and then out of spite he'd stolen the Valkyrie's ship instead. It didn't matter that he'd avoided the Devil's Anus and used a different portal. It had ripped the fragile craft to shreds and tumbled Loki through space once more—
—and then he's spat out. Somewhere else.
Before Loki has time to take in much more than the sky, the oddity beyond the sky, and the expanse of spiky-looking mountains rising rapidly around him, he impacts with the ground and nothing matters for a little while. Very slowly, his mind returns as he heals. The first thing that occurs is that the Hulk had somehow followed him to exact further revenge using his favorite method, but he cannot hear that telltale roar. This place is surprisingly peaceful, in fact, now that the dust has settled. The sun feels warm on his face, he hears the hum of insects—and a voice.
"Alive, yes," he calls back, voice roughened from the dust, probably the injuries. Can he sit up yet? Yes, if he goes carefully. Sitting up means being able to look around and locate the speaker, and offer what he hopes is a reassuring, harmless smile. "Good morning. Or...afternoon?"
no subject
Surely the Force would warn him if this were dangerous. The thing with Dagan was... different. Or something. The fallen Jedi was just as connected to the Force as Cal is, not that Cal knows for sure that Loki isn't in his own way. Listen... "Definitely afternoon," he agrees, tone light and breezy even though he's still trying to judge how hurt Loki may or may not be, before figuring the quickest way to judge will be offering the god a hand to help him stand up if he needs it. "I haven't seen you around before." Wow, now he's even talking like a local. Feels weird, but he's been so much of a busybody on Koboh for the last few weeks that he's fairly sure he knows every face and almost every name of all the prospectors in the area. Loki definitely does not look like one of the raiders or the recently arrived Imps, either. "Did you just, uh..." he steals a glance around the crater that they're standing in, which notably doesn't contain any intact starship or escape pod. "Land?"
Normally he tries not to pry. Force knows his life has been saved more than once by strangers not questioning him too much, but the situation is too bizarre to keep all his curiosity at bay until he can poke around with psychometry, like a cheater. He shakes his head to get himself back on track and follows up with: "Are you alright? My buddy's got stims if you're hurt." He tilts his head deliberately to one side to make room for BD-1 to pop up over his shoulder and beep out an affirmative about the offer.
no subject
"Ah—yes," he says, looking up at the sky, brushing idly at his dust-caked shoulders and arms. It makes almost no difference. The blue leather has held up, sort of, but it will never be quite the same. "I seem to have just recently dropped in, as it were. Thank you for your help. Might I ask where I have ended up?"
But before the question gets an answer, a little robot appears and chirps at him, and the Allspeak actually works on it. Loki can understand what it's saying. Which means it's actually alive in some way, and isn't that interesting? "I have certainly fared better. What is a stim, exactly?" And what manner of mechanical creature will provide it to him? Loki peers at it, curious about what in that array of circuits and wires has granted it sentience.
no subject
So for now, he just finds himself grinning as BD-1 visibly preens under Loki's curious gaze. "Bacta and stimulants. For combat healing." A beat. It's definitely not something most people carry around, but Cal and Normal had a not-so-amicable split about a decade ago, so he barely remembers to hurriedly tack on: "It can get pretty dicey out here." Nailed it! Now it's not suspicious at all. BD-1 clambers up onto Cal's shoulder fully, as though to take back the spotlight and save his awkward human, primly dipping his little head so Loki can see the stim canister as he pops it out for Cal to catch out of the air reflexively. BD-1 more helpfully rattles off a list of the chemical components of the neon green stimulant to make up for Cal's vague answer, because the droid always operates on the assumption that he'll be understood.
Cal offers the little canister in an open palm, in case Loki is interested. He doesn't look too hurt now, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe he's got an insane pain tolerance. Either way, Cal gestures around them, above their dusty little crater. "Well, right now you're in Dredger Gorge." He doesn't imagine that's particularly helpful. "On Koboh, if that's what you mean." Cal has crash landed in enough mystery locales (don't tell Greez) that he figures it doesn't hurt to specify. "Did you mean to land here?" It's not exactly a hot tourist destination planet, after all, and Loki does not appear prepared for prospecting (no offence and/or you're welcome, Loki.)
no subject
"Dredger Gorge? What an unromantic name." Neatly avoiding the question of whether he'd meant to land here, Loki peers at the green and glowing vial. It's a rather unsettling shade that reminds him more of his newly-discovered older sister than of his own favored colors. But he doubts Hela would have anything to do with something healing-related. She probably thinks healing is for cowards. Either don't get injured or die, give your all, that would be Hela's way.
"Well, I have no idea what bacta is, but I could use a stimulant. Thank you," he says specifically to BD-1, and before either of them can react, Loki has neatly picked up the vial, popped the top open, and swallowed down the contents. He makes a face and coughs, and looks at it with distaste. "That's disgusting. I hope it's effective. ...my stomach feels warm, does that mean it's working?"