In any other instance, he would be affronted to be called a young man, being twenty-eight and working on his doctorate; but she had something about her, a quality in her words, a means in the way she wove magic, that soothed his ridiculous ego. Like Time itself was talking with him.
Besides, he was getting used to that sort of thing among the gods he kind of-sort of now kept company with. Their age and seemingly endless knowledge reminded him of his mortality just as often as fighting did.
“You know, the whole being Spider-Man and working with the Avengers hasn’t really grounded magic in reality for me, all that much,” he offered as he watched her in a curious daze. Maybe it was his background in science, or maybe it was because, despite all the spider-trappings, he was still just a guy from Queens. “It’s still… hard to wrap my head around.”
Peter gestured to the cup closest to him. Looking up at her, he grinned a little, “You could definitely put a few stage magicians out of work.”
“All the world’s a stage,“ Sigyn said, lifting up the cup he’d pointed at, a dove emerging below that was larger than the cup itself. It shook out it’s feathers and fluttered away into the grey skies of New York, swooping in graceful arcs. “But, thank you.”
Her audience clapped and cheered in delight, dollars dropping into a cap on the edge of her table that she vanished away for safe keeping once the donations had quieted. The hat got set jauntily on her head, pink with ‘I Heart New York’ in swirling letters.
Sigyn watched the bird for a moment, before dark eyes set back on the young man. Spider-Man, he’d said. Which meant he knew Thor! She felt her heart leap with more hope than it had known in years. “Magic is a thing of the mind - if you can wrap your head around it, you might just have a chance at mastering it. But surely Thor has told you that?“
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