Vegetarian Option
To add insult to injury, it's obvious that Óli is having the time of his life.
After flashing his gold at what is probably the most disreputable crowd on Asgard, he is prancing around the tab room touching this and that while loudly commenting on it and staring at people in a way that would have been considered offensive in any context. When a tavern wench walks by, he stops her and, instead of remarking on her cleavage, sniffs at the food she's carrying.
All this is happening while Tony is looking for a suitable place to latibulate in. And, when he had finally found a niche where he felt he could remove himself from unwanted public attention, Óli spots and greets him from across the room.
Great, Tony whispers under his breath, it's almost like he's doing this on purpose. Immediately, Óli joins him at the table and signals the wench to come over.
''Evening Lotta,' Tony mutters, recognising the landlord's daughter.
'Good evening, my dear,' Óli adds jovially and winks at her in a cringy way that cannot be unseen. 'Would you like to fetch us the menu, please?'
There is no menu at the The Green Glade, of course, and Lotta stares at Óli with large, puzzled eyes while Tony is roling his.
'There's stew and roast,' Tony enlightens his companion. 'With bread or without bread. Or just bread or nothing at all, depending on what you can afford.'
'I see. Is there a vegetarian option?'
'There are some boiled turnips, leftovers from yesterday's family lunch, if you like.' Lotta ventures. Her cheeks have turned the colour of beetroot by now and Tony is starting to feel sorry for her. 'With parsley.'
'Would that be fresh parsley?' Óli asks.
'Yes?' Lotta replies, obviously confused. 'I picked it at sunrise, earlier today, in my own little herb garden.'
Tony nods in confirmation; he knows that Lotta is simple but honest, and he truly wishes there could be a better home for her. Still, what could he do? He doesn't even have a clue how to take care of himself.
'Very well,' Óli, who noticed Tony's nod, replies. 'Boiled turnips with parsley and bread for two, please.'
'Yes,' says Lotta, looking at Tony for support. But Óli isn't done yet.
'Now, my dear,' Óli asks, 'which type of bread do you recommand to go with the turnips?'
Somehow, Lotta manages to blush even more and turns towards Tony again, obviously still looking for help.
Tony doesn't feel happy about this turn of events, but, since his mother taught him some manners and he doesn't like to see Lotta in distress, he decides to step in.
'It's rye, Óli, traditional homemade rugbrød, and yes, we'd like some,' Tony says. 'Turnips, parsley, and toasted bread for two, please, hold the lard. And ale. Plenty of ale, I'd say.'
Lotta smiles at him gratefully and hurries away to fetch the order.
'So there's a vegetarian option after all,' says Óli after a minute or two.
'Yeah,' Tony, who is trying to be witty, replies. 'It's only we don't talk about it.'
'I see.' For another few minutes, Óli leans back and closes his eyes, only to open them again when the first round of ale arrives. 'Cheers, Tony. Let's drink and sup, be merry, and talk about your favourite subject.'
'And what would that be?' Tony asks while carefully placing his stein on the table.
'Well, my friend, that would be you, of course.' Óli smiles while Tony is desperately searching his mind for a suitable, clever, and also awesome answer. Much to his chagrin, he can't find one.
Óli smiles again. 'Please don't worry, Tony. If you're feeling troubled, you might consider this as just a bit of fun.'
'Sure.' Tony leans back. 'Just a bit of fun, Because, why not?'
'Precisely,' Óli replies. 'Just a bit of fun. What else could happen?'
But, in order to avoid an answer, Tony is already quaffing what is left of his ale as quickly as possible. Because he already knows where this is going: this isn't his first day on the road after all.