Loki turns his attention to John while Sherlock's contemplating the situation. "I've been hearing all about you Doctor," he informs John, turning to face him with what John can only call a sinister smile. He looks to Sherlock, but he appears to be otherwise occupied with his problem. Turning back to Loki, John rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Nothing interesting to hear," he remarks, attempting to conceal the disconcerting suspicion that Loki can see right through him.
"While I do not consider your race worthy of my concern, it is of interest that your companion speaks so highly of you," Loki elaborates, toying with the sceptre in his hand. The emotional connection between these men in evident, an unusual friendship - things may proceed more smoothly if Sherlock feels himself beholden to earn his companion's freedom. Sherlock doesn't even look up as he issues his order, mind miles away with Moriarty and his team. "Sceptre. Away from him. Now."
Definitely clever. Much more than he anticipated of a Midgardian. "Know your place," Loki responds sharply. "And do not presume to order me." As Sherlock looks up, present and irritated once more, John decides to vacate the room before they both turn their gazes on him. "Tea," he decides, heading for the kitchen and hoping beyond hope that he'll have a living room to come back to.
-
"I draw the line at leprechauns," Tony calls down the table, leaning back in his chair. "Are we going to have every crackpot in the world coming knocking on our door?" Fury glares over at him - at least Tony thinks it's a glare, it doesn't differ all that much from the director's usual expression - and shakes his head. Apparently any guy who can stroll into the headquarters of the spy of spies is worthy of a hearing.
He's still sceptical, right up until Romanoff walks into the room, turning six shades of pale at the sight of the man standing before them. Jim smirks humourlessly, nodding his head at her. "It's been a long time, Natalia," he greets her, and that's all it takes for Natasha's mask to slip back into place. "Why are you here, James?" she asks, coming to take her seat at the table next to a curious looking Clint.
"Your director hasn't told you?" Jim asks, feigning surprise. "I own you. He sold you out, in return for what I have. A plan."