A/N: Quick context just in case. This takes place around the time Jane had her plan to use pig Latin to try and trigger a subconscious reaction in Jacobine and prove there was a way to bring other people to awareness of the time loop.

Day 57

Loki Laufeyson

She never. Shuts. Up.

Loki had a toy once as a child, a miniature model of a warrior which moved, fought, and spoke as a real fighter would. Loki enjoyed it for all of a week before it grew clear that the spell which granted it speech didn't come with any sort of 'off' switch. In his desperation to keep the infernal thing silent while he slept, Loki found a muting charm in one of the books he wasn't supposed to read and ended up burning the toy to cinders by accident. That same dignitary who first gave it to him never offered another gift to the second prince, but it was just as well.

If only he could silence Jane Foster as easily.

'Ood-Gay orning-may acobine-Jay. Ow-hay are-hay ou-yay? Ou-yay ook-lay ine-fay-"

Two hours she's been doing this. Walking up and down the beach, hair whipping across her face, undeterred thanks to the heating spell he'd foolishly cast around her. He should've left her to freeze. As always, he's far too compassionate for his own good.

"I-hay am-hay oing-day… that doesn't sound right."

"Nothing you've said sounds right," Loki drawls, drawing a circle in the sand with his foot. "Not now, not ever. I must commend you for being the most talkative person I've ever met to say absolutely nothing of interest."

"Bite me."

"Except that."

"Kiss my ass."

"And that."

"How do you turn everything into a sexual innuendo?" She rounds on him. "Is it some secret talent of yours that I should know about?"

He blinks lazily. "Who says I meant it sexually? Perhaps you should refrain from such base assumptions. Aren't you a rational thinker?"

She's oddly lovely when she's ready to kill him. The only other person to ever look at him like this was Thor, and there are innumerable reasons why Thor is the last thing on his mind. He steps away from the wall, feeling the wind on his face. He hasn't cloaked himself. There's no need. Cold is nothing to him. It never was, and when he thinks about it, that should've been an obvious sign from the start that he wasn't quite right...

He makes a quick amendment. Thor is the second to last thing he wants to think about.

"Ood-gay orning-may, acobine-Jay." She's loud enough to almost be heard over the crashing waves. "Ow-hay are-hay ou-yay?"

"Ored-bay I-hay ust-may ay-say." Loki grins at her. She glares back.

"Oki-lay is-hay a-hay ickhead-day."

"Now that's just impolite."

"Ut-shay up-hay."

"O-nay."

She glares. If she had magic, he's certain he'd be a pile of dust carried off with the wind by now.

"You won't think it's so funny once I've found a way out of this." She kicks sand in his direction. It flies back at her legs.

"Is that what you tell your colleagues when you beg them for money?"

"I do not beg for grants. They are awarded to me." She speaks as if this is something to be proud of. Some might say it is, but Loki is not 'some'. "And I'm awarded said money because the school board believes in what I am studying."

"Are you sure they aren't merely offering you a pittance to keep you out of their hair?"

"You really want to get thrown into the ocean, don't you?"

Loki lets out a full belly laugh that would make Volstagg jealous. Jane is walking away from him and stumbles when he appears in front of her. He folds his arms, digging his feet into the earth. He doesn't need to make himself look bigger. She's a wisp of air next to him.

"Go ahead. Throw me," he says.

She swerves around him. Whatever she wants to say, she holds it in. If she gets too good at that, he might need to change tactics.

It's nearly night and the moon is rising. Soon the stars will come out, and maybe then she'll be at peace. He sits on a bench which creaks under his weight. It barely reacts to hers and he shakes his head. There are children on Asgard more robust. She plays with her fingers, mouthing stranges words he can only assume to be more pig Latin.

"It's a silly idea," he says, though at this point he's just repeating himself.

"Lots of good ideas were silly at first," she replies.

"You mean to say this is one of them?"

"I mean to say shut up."

"How many times will we go around in circles like this? Has it not grown tedious?"

He supposes it has. An hour goes by and she still hasn't answered him. It's an incredible view of space from here. He can see why such a location was appealing to her for a summer abroad. The stars in Asgard are, of course, better, but that is par for the course and he's not in the mood for another runaround. Maybe he'll bring it up tomorrow or the next day.

She stretches her arm, pointing at the single red dot amid the millions of twinkling white. "That's Mars."

"So it is."

"NASA is talking about sending manned missions within the next fifty years."

"Do you wish to go?"

She snorts. "I'll be old by then. Might even be dead. Not that it wouldn't be the chance of a lifetime, it just won't be my lifetime."

"Not with that attitude." He crosses one leg over the other and observes the red pinprick. "You know, we do have ways of granting mortals extended lifespans equal to that of our own. It is an honor reserved for only the strongest of your kind but I could sneak you an apple if you like."

"Tempting," she says, licking away her dry lips. He finds himself following her tongue. "Pretty sure that would mean spending an eternity close to you, though. Not sure I'm emotionally prepared for that."

"That's not necessarily true," Loki says. "The cosmos is limitless. There's no end to what you can find, and knowing you, you'd spend the majority of your five thousand year lifespan tracking comets. You won't have time to think of me, let alone seek me out."

"Well, that's not untrue."

Loki furrows his brow. Her quick agreement strikes him as a dismissal. Nobody dismisses the god of mischief.

(Not anymore…)

"Are you saying you wouldn't miss me?"

She pretends to examine her nails, but when he listens, he can hear her heart race. "Would you miss me?"

They are both good questions, though he is decidedly not fond of the latter. He decides he'll only answer if she does first, and so he has nothing more to say. She has her back to him and her fingers trace lines across the stars. It would be an acceptable (if not very fun) way to end the evening-

"Ood-gay orning-may, acobine-Jay. Ow-hay are-hay ou-yay?"

-but she still won't shut up.