The winds were calm, and a few more days passed on Earth.
"That guy just tipped me fifty bucks."
Loki grinned as he hooked a velvet-wrapped iron chain onto the railing to guide the crowd, showing off to Thor with some pride.
It had taken him only a few days to get the hang of his new job. He had discovered that saying the right things could earn him extra money.
Generally, women got into nightclubs for free, while everyone else had to wait in line. The place was only so big; if too many people got in, no one would have a good time.
That was why upscale nightclubs had a "door god" posted beside the red carpet, keeping the waiting crowd back with a chain.
Whenever someone inside left, he followed the nightclub manager's instructions through his earpiece and let a few more people in.
But Loki had sharp eyes. He could pick out the wealthy men in the crowd and use his tiny bit of authority to let them in early. A few compliments and a couple of "handsome"s later, they would tip him generously.
It was easy enough, really. Humans were simple creatures.
The ones who arrived at night in luxury cars and stepped out with their heads high and their chests puffed out were successful men.
The ones who came on foot in little groups, heads down and already drunk, were obviously broke.
"Why does he get in and I don't?! You owe me an explanation!" a drunk protested, pointing at the successful man Loki had admitted.
The dark-haired god of mischief merely gave him a scornful smile.
You haven't got a cent to spare, and you still want through a door guarded by the All-Father's son? Out you go!
Loki did not even have