Dead.
That word alone should have been enough to send Loki carving either a wrathful rampage across the universe else a cold, quiet, ruthless path to Thanos for a rematch he would not lose. He himself had died, temporarily, in sacrifice for his brother (and to escape the shame and weight of all he had done) only for Thor to perish to the cruelty of the Infinity Stones. It was unacceptable. Something had to be done.
There was a sharpness to the god of mischief's gaze when she spoke of a new king, his blood ready to boil at who dared take Thor's place, until Jane took him off guard.
Surprise plain on his face, all violence dissolved from his thoughts if only for these moments. Love? Him? She had parted from Thor more than a year ago and Loki could not deny he had thought often of the mortal who had changed Thor and whom their mother had protected. Whom he had protected when Kurse's grenade had gone off. Did she see more in him than a treacherous killer now?
"I am in your favour? I'd understand if you only seek comfort in grief."
@neverxtooxlate
