It's not like him to care this much.
Loki's first response to rain is rational enough, he supposes. Even those without an irrational fear of thunderstorms would try their best to get out of whether such as this. It's the most logical option. After all, he's always put logic first…at least, for as long as he can remember, so he's not quite sure what's compelled him to stay out on a night like this.
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't think I have any change on me…"
Loki's never had strong opinions about beggars on the street. He might slip them a coin or two if the money was readily available but he'd never stop long enough to really think about his actions. He spends his time caught up in routine and travel. It's the easiest way, far better than standing still and letting the world change around him. Though he isn't entirely sure why, he can't help but think that there may be something he has to run away from. He'd always written it off as a survival instinct but now, he can't help but contemplate other options.
Something in the man's response seems to trigger…something, something inside his heart. Loki isn't entirely sure what, but whatever it is, it's not going to stay dormant.
"Brother, it has been centuries! The last thing I care about is some Midgardian token of monetary value! It is value enough to see your face again…"
Loki's not entirely sure why he hasn't already bolted from this man. The shivering form before him embodies everything Loki's ever run away from. The man seemed to appear in a bolt of lightning. The pavement had housed nothing but grungy puddles of mud-soaked rain but seconds ago. When the lightning had struck, the usual chills that signaled the arrival of his phobia had run down Loki's spine. Were it any other day, in any other storm, he would have simply run away but the path ahead of him was as blinding as the air was cold.
And then, when Loki's eyes could focus again, there he was. He, who's been staring at Loki with such affection as Loki's never quite experienced before, much less from someone he's never met. It's that tenderness that keeps Loki from running the other way, but not from his usual skepticism.
"Have we met, sir?"
Is it just droplets of rain upon this man's face or is he actually crying?
"I… I apologize most profoundly…it is simply that you…" the man's face contorts strangely and Loki begins to feel a dull pain in his chest, "no, no it must be you! No form in Midgard could possibly produce such an approximation! You are his very spitting image. Such an image has most definitely been crafted by the hands of a higher realm! It must be you, my brother! It simply must be!
The man tries unsuccessfully to get up. For a man so large and muscular, his weakness is surprising. Loki has half a mind to help this man, but the more rational half still lingers. After all, where on earth is the logic in tending to a man who's never met, and a possibly senile one at that?
And yet, for all his reasons to simply walk away, Loki has found himself caring for this man. It's an unnatural feeling, one that frightens him far more than any thunderstorm. Perhaps this is what Loki's been running away from all along. Loki isn't entirely sure. He's not quite sure of anything anymore. And yet, the burning his chest, while hardly a comfortable feeling, is one he feels compelled to act on.
"Look, I don't know who you are or what you're talking about, but this rain isn't fit for anyone to be out in. Here," without quite realizing what he's doing, Loki kneels down to face this man, extending his umbrella so that they're both sheltered, "why don't you come back to my apartment tonight, just until the rain lets up? Then we can find you a place to go. How about that?"
The man's eyes are wide with some strong emotion that Loki can't quite read. His strength seemingly somewhat renewed, the man lays a thick arm upon Loki's shoulder and simply nods in response. The man is too heavy to be lifted without a strain on Loki's part but, at least for now, it doesn't seem to matter.
It's not like him to care this much.