Drabble 2: Encounters of the First Kind
"What was he like?"
"Who?" Darcy asked.
For a minute Sawyer was silent, sheepishly looking at his book. In ways he was a lot like his mother. When he asked questions, he fired them off a mile a minute. It was strange to see him so quiet.
Then he said in a soft voice: "Dad."
Somehow Darcy forgot how to breathe. Sawyer never asked questions about his father but she had a sober suspicion that he already knew. It was one fact she couldn't protect him from. Sawyer was looking over his shoulders, his left leg bouncing anxiously, his only indicator of being nervous.
"Well for starters, you're a lot like him." She smiled slyly, trying to remember only the good and ignore the faint throbbing pain that came with it. "He would have loved you, so much."
Darcy ignored the sucker-punch feeling in her lower stomach. She knew a lot of things about Loki from both experience and super-secret SHIELD files she might or might-not have hacked. But for the life of her, she couldn't tell if what she had said was the true or another lie to add to the endless list of half-truths and fiction.
"How'd you meet?"
As Sawyer clutched the open paged book with white knuckles, Darcy paled, a flood of memories washed over her.
He froze, stoically blinking as he tried to recalibrate his ("bag full of cats") brain. His handlers barked furious orders at her blurred into a wordless roar. Darcy was faintly aware of two gorilla-men in pressed black suits dragging her away and the feeling of warm sticky blood dripping down her bruised knuckles.
It was just by chance they were both appeared within 100 foot radius simultaneously and Darcy had a rising suspicion Jane had asked to keep Loki as far from her as possible. Why? That was still debated but if Darcy had to ask, she'd put her money on "the risk of national security", which she might've already compromised with her little stunt. After all, she was a bit of a wild card in the scheme of things.
"That, was for New York, you sick Cat Bag!" she spat with acidic venom she hadn't known she was capable of in the haze of things. It compensated for her poor insult choice. (What could she say? It was the first thing that popped into her head). Darcy could have sworn he smiled (a soul chilling smile that instilled the very essence of fear right into your core) but that was impossible with his metal gag that obscured half of his lower face and looked like a SHEILD rip-off of Bane's mask from The Dark Knight Rises. The dark haired girl was then acutely aware of the attention she would be getting from the said sociopath.
"We, ah, were stationed in the same building," she said carefully.
"Oh," was his reply. Then came the hard hitting question: "Did he love you?"
Darcy smiled and looked down at the coffee clutched between her hands. Black, no sugar, no cream. Just the way he liked it. It was cold now (just like his black, shriveled, bitter heart). She then whispered: "I like to think so."