“So,” said Thor, leaning back, his elbows against the concierge desk of the Secaucus Holiday Inn, “you’re not with Victoria.”
“I’m not,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII, standing next to Thor in a similar fashion. “You with Catrina?”
“Nope.”
“Meaning there shouldn’t be a problem with my taking her out to dinner then.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So there would be a problem.”
“More than likely.”
“And that problem would be…?”
“You, mainly. And my inherent distrust of you, specifically.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII nodded slightly, conceding the point.
“That’s understandable, actually,” he said. “I’m assuming then that this is the juncture of our conversation wherein you ask me if there’s a problem with you courting Victoria?”
“Uh, no, actually,” said Thor. “I was just going to do it.”
“You are aware you’re nowhere near good enough for her, right?”
“What? I’m a fucking god, dude.”
“You were a god. Now you’re just some chump working at a hotel in the middle of a swamp. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a little out of touch, Thor. Not to mention confused and kind of angry, like a flightless bird stuck on a tree branch.”
“Yeah, no. You misunderstood what I meant.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII thought about that for a second before saying, “Oh.”
“Yep,” replied Thor.
“You do realize that you’ve pretty much just proved my point, though, right?”
“What are you talking about? That was the greatest double entendre in the history of history.”
“She could do so much better than you, man.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
From the couch on the other side of the lobby Catrina asked, “What are they getting all worked up about now?”
“Not a clue,” said Queen Victoria.
“Whatever it is,” said William H. Taft XLII, situated between the two women, his arms stretched out along the back of the couch, “I’m not getting in the middle of it.”