“No elevator for you in that outfit,” the guard said. Well, not exactly in so many words. It was more his look, and his reach towards his sidearm that did most of the talking.
So yes, the clothes were going to become a problem soon, if they weren’t already.
After all, I am on the wrong side of more than one locked door, and wearing an outfit that strongly suggests that I am in fact on the right side. At least by the lights of those who currently have the most say in my wardrobe, eating habits, and roommates.
And I’m not exactly happy about it.
But that’s ok.
I’m biding my time, waiting for the right moment and while I’m waiting there’s always the three squares and a cot provided courtesy of whoever pays the taxes in this gods-forsaken place.
When the time is right, I’ll apply my talent to the weak spot. A little fire. A little luck. Possibly a tall tale or two whispered in the right ear or shouted in someone’s left ear. I’m not picky, really.
And in the meantime, orange really does suit me.
In the fullness of time, it will become clear to all that there is no jail that can hold Loki.