“Thor was looking for you,” she says.
Her voice is strangely quiet. Muted, as if there isn’t enough air to be had. Her lips are chapped, her hair in need of washing. Loki takes in the whole of her appearance without unlocking his gaze from hers.
“I find that unlikely,” Loki says, matching her quiet tone. “I died. Quite heroically, if you remember.”
Jane’s gaze drops to his armored chest. “He figured it out.”
The desert air is chilled to the point of freezing, but her sleeves are thin. Inadequate protection for a mortal against the cold. Loki’s eyes focus past her, and he sees her jacket crumpled in the passenger seat. Drawing in a deep breath, he folds his hands behind his back and takes two very slow steps in her direction. Her eyes are still locked on his chest. Only the slightest tensing of her shoulders gives him any indication that she still has enough wits about her to fear him.
“Forgive my cynicism,” he says. “But again, I find your claims unlikely. Thor, bless him, is more predisposed to immediately believe what he sees.”
“Was.” Finally, she looks up at him. Her eyes shine in the moonlight. “He was.”
He watches her. Waiting. Listening.
Fingers itching to snap her neck if she dares confirm what he thinks she’s implying.
Bargaining by @pro-antagonist