The unnatural blaze of the roadside café's fluorescent lighting was fierce enough to screw over the circadian rhythm of the most regimented mortal. Loki occupied a booth on the east side of the building, so the cushions that he sat on were not only worn, but faded as well. He was out of place, obviously, even with the midgardian garb that he had chosen for himself: a charcoal designer suit, a black shirt, and a green tie. He gazed out the large window that stretched from floor to ceiling and wrapped itself around the entirety of the large dining area, which could easily hold up to 150 customers. It was late in the night, or very ear