The ringing was really more of a clang against the plate metal walls of the truck, obnoxious and mocking and violently loud. Thor cursed as his clumsy fingers trampled over the buttons, and it was unclear whether he was still trying to finish his text or whether he was trying to get the ringing to stop or whether he was just trying to figure out how to turn the damn thing off. His first thought, at the very base of his instincts, was to smash the thing against the ground and be done with its nonsense, but he had promised the Metal Man that he would try to keep in touch using the human device. It occurred to exactly no one that Thor didn't know how to work a cell phone.
Well. It occurred to no one who could be heard.
Loki took to human technology like he took to all technology – he was adaptable, he learned, he could meld when necessary, and though he wouldn't tell anyone (not that he could, or would even be able to, if the rumors of his punishment were true) he secretly rather liked human technology. It was at once primitive and astoundingly advanced, straightforward and stupidly complex – made things easier, but capable of making one let out an impressive string of curses at its uselessness.
And though Thor wasn't letting much of his frustration show outwardly, Loki was ranting wildly in his head. How? How can it be that difficult? Absolutely ridiculous – I'll bet he pushed the two buttons at once – oh, there he goes again, there it goes again, that forsaken noise, you have got to be kidding me.
His brow knit, Thor finally made a snarling face at the screen. "All I require is that you carry a message to Jane Foster! You have the capability of locating her, I know you do!"
As if by shouting louder than the phone, he could defeat it.
Half of Loki would have thought that the SHEILD agents accompanying them would have grown equally tired of the cacophony, but a quick glance at their faces informed him otherwise. Based on the way they were watching him, the quirks at the corners of their mouths, his discomfort made all of this worthwhile.
If the muzzle allowed him room to sneer, he would.
Of course, they could fix this. They could, despite their claims that Stark tech was far beyond their understanding when proud Thor let slip a plea for help. Loki knew they could. Those were not the looks of ignorant men willing to help.
The ringtone changed. Norns have mercy, the ringtone changed.
This was too much. Loki let out a grunt, thick in the back of his throat, and caught his brother's eye – mindful of the chains, he held his hand out, highly aware that the expression on his face was akin to a phrase he heard during his weeks on Midgard: "Oh, for fuck's sake."
The conflict in Thor's eyes was palpable. A week ago, he'd held his brother by the neck and claimed to want to take him home – yesterday, he hefted and dropped him like a block of ice needing to be cracked. Tension between them, as they say, could be cut with a knife.
Face blank of anything save exasperation, Loki made a gesture of insistence with his outstretched hand, not taking his eyes from his brother's face. "Just give it to me."
Gently, carefully, infinitely wary, Thor handed the riotous little thing over to his brother.
Immediately, Loki's eyes grazed the half-finished text: "TKNG BROTHR LOKI HOME TO ASGRD GLAD YOU SAFE"
He gave the faintest of snorts, exited from the screen, and hunted down the menu for sound options. Set to: Silent. It gave a pleasant, humming little vibration in his hand as he clicked out of the menu, and after the barest second of thought, he opened a blank text and tapped out a quick, "Found my brother, taking him home. Glad you were kept safe – Thor" before tossing the phone back to his brother.
Thor's relief at the phone's silence was written all over his face, and when he caught the phone his eyes caught the pending text – he stifled a smile, and simply nodded his thanks.