@ledonjuann --
“You know,” Loki was saying to what he presumed was the open air, “What with how this realm and its inhabitants treat me, it’s as though someone narrates my every step and waking moment, paid by the hour yet despising me as if I were the worst to ever grace the Nine Realms.” Pause. “Projection must be such a debilitating disease.”
Turning his head, Loki realized that his internal-external monologue had been probably listened to.
Far be it the first. (And, for the record, that bit of paid by the hour was nothing short of Loki’s imagination, lest you see kinder words in these very parentheses.)
“A thousand greetings to you, stranger,” he said behind him. “This old trickster was only caught up in the coming and goings of this rather interesting intersection of his life, what with the mystery city and world of worlds going on.”
A brow went up when he noticed the mask, and further, the rest of the costume. Ah. One of those.
“Strong and silent type, I take it?”