His head tilts just so to the right, eyes flicking over her face, her hands and neck. “Won’t kill you,” he admits, the knife not budging a hair. A certain cagey air hangs over his shoulders; makes him shift from foot to foot. He hears a ticking clock, somewhere in with all the buzzing. They need to move now. The Soldier can’t think of anything beyond getting the god to come with him, and if that means blood needs to be shed, he’ll do what he needs to do. It’s what he’s always done; what is necessary. The next words out of his mouth are casual, matter of fact. Words from a weapon who’s been sharpened to a fine point against the whetstone. “But it will cause pain.” He presses the knife up, not enough to draw blood yet. But it is sharp.
she can think of five ways to kill him. two ways to disarm him. one way to teleport them both to another dimension where hopefully they would both escape but that doesn’t mean loki can do any of them. none of them are low enough risk that she’d put someone she loves through her paces, risk their lives, for her own. loki comes back. it’s a fact of it all. so she accepts the knife against her throat and tries to write it off with a huffed laugh. “pain, the eternal turn on,” she add, the sneer still gently in her voice as she starts to move, shifting out of the bed so that she’s standing in her nightgown looking at him. “bucky. i don’t know what’s happened to you, but i do know this isn’t who you are. if HYDRA somehow got involved i’ll rip their throats out in front of of you, alright?” the tone is unexpectedly gentle for what she’s promising, but it’s said like a lover ------ a gentle it’ll be alright. she believes that bucky’s in there.
