lokkja:

“Somewhere an elf is questioning your existence, too.”

Loki remained amused by the other man, keeping a tight lipped smile as he spoke. 

                “How can you be so ignorant to all around you?  You know of other pantheons yet elves, who are a piece of mine, are make believe to you?”

‘If they are yours then surely you would know if they live in my hair or not? If they do, mind you, then I’ve not seen hide nor hair of them. They hide from me.’

     He supposed, in some way, Loki was right. He had seen the Gods, spoken to the Gods and yet there was just something peculiar about the idea of elves, and elves in his hair, too. His hand moved up to touch at blonde curl, shaking them slightly.

     'They’re not small enough to live in my hair. And they certainly couldn’t bake cookies. I’d be able to tell.’

lokkja:

“So you admit there are elves living in your hair?”

                                      “Trust? I do not give my trust so freely.”

‘So you do not deny that it is irrelevant?’

    He presses his lips together, looking at the man before him–always hard to tell between mischief and malice, both making his eyes glimmer.

      'I didn’t know elves were small enough to fit in my hair. I’ve not had the privilege of meeting any, I’m afraid.’

'If there is any

lokkja:

“I can’t trust a man with that hair… . I swear I can smell the cookies being baked by the elves that live in it." 

     ‘Look at your luxurious mane, the hair’s nothing to do with it. I happen to be quite fond of the elves, thank you. You either trust me or you don’t.’

lokkja:

          “I will hold you to this.”

     ‘Let’s not be dramatic, don’t you trust me?’