She waited quietly, studying him. Not outwardly abnormal, though it wasn’t always abnormals who sought her out. Simply a majority. Assessing the situation, Helen blinked rapidly when the double of the man stepped forward. Identical twins - but not likely, she knew. Something had seemed off, and now she understood. A strange ability, multiplying one’s self, but she’d seen it before in brief encounters. “If you’re referring to your ability, I wouldn’t call it ‘fixing’. Being an abnormal is -.” But she stopped herself, because in her studying of the pair before her she’d come to the face of the one who’d stepped out of the shadows - his lips sewn shut. Quite haphazardly too, it appeared. Something twisted sharply in her stomach. “Perhaps you ought to come inside.”
On the outside he looks like any other vagrant that might be crossing the street at that time of day. Ragged sweatshirt, dark-wash jeans. It bothers him, just how very ordinary he looks. Loki's a man who likes to dress well. He likes the power clothes can give him. He likes power in general-- and that's why it's so difficult for him to ask for help.
But he has no other choice. Not if he's going to go back home. So he follows the woman inside with his hands stuffed in the front pocket of the sweatshirt.
The double vanishes into the thin air, having served his purpose.
