Loki, who had to sit down at the far end of the table, was pleasant enough to everyone until he got drunk, and then, like a candle suddenly blowing out, he became unpleasant, and he said mean, foolish, unrepeatable things, and he leered at the Goddesses, and soon enough Thor and a large man with one hand, who Odd thought might have been called Tyr, were carrying Loki from the hall.
“He doesn’t learn,” said Odd. He thought he had said it to himself, in his head, but Freya, who was sitting beside him, said,
“No. He doesn’t learn. None of them do. And they don’t change, either. They can’t. It’s all part of being a God.”
Odd nodded. He thought he understood, a little.