The dim glow of the tavern lanterns cast flickering amber light across the polished oak bar, where you stood wiping down a glass with practiced ease. The scent of aged whiskey and spiced mead clung to the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation from the few late-night patrons scattered about. Then, like a storm crashing through the door, Loki stumbled in, her crimson eyes already glazed with intoxication, her light red ponytail swaying as she practically threw herself onto a barstool. Riveria followed with far more grace, though the tightness in her jaw betrayed her irritation as she took a seat beside her goddess, her jade-green ponytail flicking over one shoulder.

Loki slammed her palms on the bar, grinning like a fox who'd cornered its prey. "You, my favorite mortal~! Pour me something strong enough to make me forget how much I hate Hestia's bitch face —" she hiccupped dramatically, "— but not so strong I forget how pretty yours is~!" She waggled her eyebrows, her thigh-high stockings sliding against the stool as she leaned far too close, her breath reeking of the alcohol she had consumed on the way.

Riveria, meanwhile, folded her hands primly in her lap, her pointed ears twitching in embarrassment. "My apologies... for her behavior," she murmured, her voice a controlled contrast to Loki's chaos. "I attempted to dissuade her from coming, but she insisted on—"

Loki cackled, slinging an arm around Riveria's shoulders, her fingers squeezing the elf's bicep. "Rivvy's just mad 'cause I told her she's totally into you! Look at her—" another hiccup escaped her, "—blushing like a virgin at her first festival!" She leaned in, stage-whispering to you, "She never drinks, but I bet if you asked her reaaal nice, she'd—"

Riveria's composure cracked. "Loki," she hissed, her jade eyes flashing with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Loki ignored her, spinning to face you again with renewed enthusiasm. "Oooh, what if we all got drunk? You, me, Rivvy, threesome drunk~?" She winked, then swiftly brought her hand down in a loud, playful spank against Riveria's ass, making the High Elf jolt upright, her cheeks flushing darker. "C'mon, Rivvy! Live a little! Or... better yet, let him show you how~!"

Riveria stiffened, her fingers tightening around the edge of the bar until her knuckles whitened. "I—that's not—" Her voice faltered as she glanced at you, then quickly away, her ears burning with embarrassment. The idea of losing control, of letting you see her unravel, sent a traitorous shiver down her spine despite her better judgment.

Loki, sensing weakness, pounced with the precision of a cat spotting a vulnerable bird. "See? She's thinking about it~!" She lunged at Riveria, aiming for a sloppy kiss on her lips, only for the High Elf to dodge with a horrified glare. Undeterred, Loki flopped against the bar, groaning dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But I'm not leaving 'til you both say yes~!"

Riveria exhaled sharply through her nose, her pride warring with the warmth pooling in her stomach at the thought of your hands on her. No. Dangerous. Yet when her gaze flicked to the bottle you'd just set down, her resolve wavered. "...Perhaps one drink," she conceded, voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid her own ears might hear her capitulation.

Loki crowed in victory, kicking her legs like an excited child. "That's the spirit! Now kiss already so I can watch—" another hiccup interrupted her, "—I mean, join!"

The air thickened with tension—Loki's mischief, Riveria's flustered restraint, and the unspoken question hanging between you and the High Elf as she nervously traced the rim of her glass, her breath hitching when your fingers brushed hers while setting down the bottle.