The man in the street was still glaring at me, so I offered assistance. Even though I thought he was from the loony bin.

"Uh…do you need help?" I asked.

He opened his mouth to speak (and by the looks of his facial expression, it wasn't going to be nice), and just paused, with pain shooting across his face. He then falls to the ground, and gets knocked out cold. I of course, being the dramatic person I am, I shriek and run to the street. I kneeled down, and, cautiously poked his body, thinking:

'Is he dead?'

Well, apparently not, because within the next three seconds he popped up and grabbed my arm. I jump, but this guy's freaking strong. So it's more of a "I jump up and he pulled me down instantly" thing going on here.

He pulled on my shirt sleeve, and tried to say something else. His eyes were a bright blue, and were staring at me as if ii had hit him with my car or something. If I had a car.

As he was groping to my arm, I saw that his scepter was disappearing. Okay, more like disintegrating before my eyes. I tried pointing to it, but, lo and behold, he still had my arm! So I ignore the disintegrating scepter and focused on the guy. His grip weakened, and again, I think he's dying.

So I frantically speak. "Dude, are you okay?" Yep, classic me. "What do you need? How'd you get here? What's wrong with you?"

The guy freezes, and then falls back to the ground. And that's when I start genuinely freaking out.

'Holy, crads, this guy is dead! I have a dead guy in my arms! What would the police think? My handprints are all over him! Oh, god, I'm too young to be framed for this!'

And that's when I hear a slight gurgle from his mouth. My face falls, and suddenly I feel like the stupidest person in the world.

'Okay, so he's sleeping.'

Trying to be courteous, I slightly pick up/drag the guy to the side of the street (and get the finger from a passing car- what are you doing driving at one in the morning anyway?) and set him down on the grass. Man, this guy was heavy. So I drag him up to my door, pull him inside, and set him on the couch.

Now, you're probably thinking:

'Are you out of your mind, girl? He could be a robber! Or a crazy person! Or a serial killer! Why would you let him into your house?!'

Well, I'll tell you why: because he looked sick. Seriously, freaking pale. That, and he faints right in the middle of the street. Not good. I let him in because, well, because I was trying to be nice. That, and if he does die, at least it would explain the fingerprints.

So, he's on the couch, I'm on the floor, exhausted because he was so freaking heavy. And in a few minutes, I've passed out, too.

Rye…

I turn around. Five more minutes, dad.

"Rye." Someone's shaking me.

I pulled the blanket over my head. And then, I feel a foot on my back, rolling me over.

"Ow!" I sit up. "Geez, dad, I'm up!"

He says nothing. I rub my eyes and then open them. Come to find out, it wasn't my dad. It was the dude from the night before, still laying down on my couch, nudging me with his foot. Okay, let me repeat that:

With his foot.

Well, so much for manners.

"Oh, okay, you're not dead. Cool," was my good morning to the stranger. He must have thought it rude, because then he said:

"Rather odd, how you speak in the morning, greeting your guests like this."

"Kind of odd, a guest waking up the person who owns the house with their foot."

He fell silent. We were both being rude. Okay, let's start this morning over:

"So…who are you?"

You could see his ego rise when he said his next words. "I am Loki of Asgard."

I nod, trying to analyze his words. That's all I could do. I mean, what do you say to that?

"I am Rye of…well, this house." I motioned around me.

"Do you know why I am here?"

I shook my head. "You fell out in the street, and I dragged you in here. That's about it."

The guy, Loki, as he said, chuckled. One of those amusing oh-you're-so-naïve sort of chuckles.

"Oh, so naïve, you are."

See?

"I shall tell you, and whatever has been spoken, shall not be repeated to another mortal, understand?"

I blink, confused and taken aback by his choice of words.

"Uh, err, okay. No repeats."

Loki nods. "Then let me begin. Do you know of a place called New York?"