When I walk into my room, what I typically expect is an absence of sentient life. Not much besides inanimate objects and myself reside in my little niche, aside from the occasional visit from family or friends seeking a favor.
To say the least, I was surprised to find a certain adopted Asgardian prince sitting at my desk. Having just driven home from another ordinary day of stressful school while Mom was off running errands and Dad presumably at work, I had every reason to believe that I was the only one home, and yet here my eyes were betraying me, suggesting that at the moment I was most definitely not the sole inhabitant of my room.
However, the surprise of finding a stranger reclining in my squeaky old office chair was quite insignificant compared to the shock of encountering a member of fictitious of alien royalty, or rather, an incredibly popular English actor, or so I thought.
Lingering in the doorframe, my next course of action was suddenly unsure; dumping my backpack in the corner, hopping onto my bed, and perusing the internet via a wonderful invention known as the laptop no longer seemed appropriate for the situation.
Given the mildly concerned gaze of said visitor that was presently meeting my own, albeit less stoic, stare, it was evident that I wasn't the only person here who was at least minimally surprised.
At the moment that only even slightly logical explanation I could think of was that my parents somehow arranged this as a month-late birthday surprise, but I just couldn't wrap my head around how in the world they made it happen. But, given the lack of any other remotely possibly cause for this unusual situation, that was my best guess.
Hesitantly taking a step forward, I stuttered out,
"Excuse me, Loki, umm, I mean, Tom Hiddleston, sir. Why are you here, and why are you dressed up?"
I couldn't help but avert my gaze. Although the shock was good reason to be gaping at him, I was also distinctly aware of the fact that here in front of my was one of my favorite actors and characters and that at the moment he was distinctly aware of me, a rather embarrassing prospect I wasn't really prepared for.
However, before looking away, I did see him narrow his eyes and furrow his brow, suggesting that he himself wasn't entirely sure of the answer or at least wasn't planning on explaining himself. A mere pause later, he demanded, whilst rising to his feet,
"How dare you question me, mortal? I haven't a clue who this Hiddleston is, but don't you at least realize what I, Loki of Asgard, am capable of?"
All while speaking in his unmistakable English accent, I could hear a hint of uncertainty at the beginning of his query. Either his acting abilities temporarily faltered, or he was very confused, or possibly both.
Again meeting his eyes, I peered up at him doubtfully, unsure of how to answer. Settling with simply not yet responding, I took notice of his attire. Wearing his typical tunic, armor, and horned helmet, he looked ready for battle, or rather, not ready to loaf around in a stranger's bedroom. But one thing was clearly missing: his scepter. And it appeared I was not the only one to be aware of its absence. The visitor's attitude seemed to shift from mere concern to something more akin to anxiety, albeit rather well hidden anxiety.
Suddenly strutting forward, towards either me or the doorway, he looked distracted, now completely ignoring my existence to the point of seeming to believe he could walk right through me. Before he had the chance to try, I put my hands up in feeble defense as if that would prevent any offense on his part, and squeaked,
"Wait. Where do you thing you are going? At least answer my questions."
Stopping in his tracks, he was now directly in front of me. My hands almost touching his chest, he looked down on me, this time with genuine surprise. He simply glared doing nothing. Myself also looking down, I whispered even more hesitantly,
"Well?"
His only response to this was a sharp intake of breath, shortly followed by him retreating back into the room, only to whirl around and demand,
"Where am I? This is Midgard, isn't it?"
At least somewhat well versed in the Marvel Universe, I was familiar his use of the otherwise foreign term,
"Y, yes. This is Earth. We're in the United States."
The presumed Tom Hiddleston seemed particularly into his role, and I was growing more doubtful of the entire situation. And even though I knew him to simply be a rather earnest and polite actor, his intensity made it impossible to fully disbelieve his act. Interrupting the brief moment of silence that existed as his processed by last statement, I added, still very much hesitant,
"This is just a joke, right? Who arranged this. As amazing as this is, I'm getting a bit creeped out."
"Silence. What ever is going on is most definitely not a mere trick. I would demand you tell me what happened, but you appear to be telling the truth. But I assure you, you're involvement in whatever this is, whether major or not, will not end well for you."
His glare growing colder by the second, he broke in before I could respond,
"What are you? How were you able to see me?"
"Just an average person, I think, I mean, human, Midgardian."
By now I was practically cowering. He was not acting normal, whatever normal is for an actor. If anything, he seemed completed deluded.
"I'll be the judge of that."
Striding right back up to me, I backed up to the wall of the hallway beyond my door while he proceeded to pin both my wrists above my head with the strong grip of single hand. Squeezing my eyes shut, I braced for whatever would come next, only to hear the slam of the door to the garage below.
-To be continued.