Two months later

For Loki, the problem with prisons or cages of any sorts that he was put into was that he could transport himself directly from one spot to another thanks to his magic. This, of course, meant that he could go from inside an Asgardian prison cell to outside the prison cell in the blink of an eye. It took Odin long enough to figure this out, and when the All-Father had, he was not a happy god.

It had taken numerous very firm arguments from Frigga for Odin to decide to keep his word about not killing Loki outright, considering his actions in New York, and a few, even more heated arguments from the same woman to convince Odin that New York City was in fact the best place for Loki to be. That way he was already in the Avengers' backyard should he decide to wreak havoc on Midgard again.

Not that he was in the mood to do so. Not that anyone believed he wasn't in the mood for it… He had tried to tell Odin, Frigga, Thor, and all of the rest of them numerous times that he honestly wasn't responsible for his actions. The Chitauri had made him do the things that he had. But did they believe him? No, of course not… So away he was sent to Midgard, choosing to take one of his own routes onto the planet – much more inconspicuous, considering that the mortals were still harboring some ill will towards him and he didn't desire death – and landing smack dab in the middle of New York City. In the dead of night. With nowhere to go. How joyous. What was he supposed to do now?

First off: he needed to change his appearance so that he was not easily recognizable. There were too many mortals who wanted to kill him for that to be a good idea.

Before he could even decide what sort of a person he wanted to shift into, he heard a sudden, half-frantic feminine voice snap from further down the alley he was in, "I don't care who you think I am; I don't have any more money! You've already got my jewelry; what else do you want?" Loki was already starting to get concerned for the woman, but when he heard her yelp, "Hey, don't touch me!" he started moving towards the two shadowy figures, thinking fast before reverting to his Jotun form. If he needed to intervene in anything, a Jotun would most easily scare the apparent robber away.

"Leave the lady be!" Loki called out once he was only a few steps away from the duo.

"Oh, really?" the man scoffed while Loki remained in the shadows. "Are you gonna make me?"

"If you don't return her valuables and walk away, yes."

Loki rather enjoyed watching the man's expression change when he stepped into the light from the dingy street lamp and towered over him, red eyes glowering. Shaking, pale and horrified, the filthy man ripped the entire contents of his pockets out into the opened and dropped it all carelessly onto the ground before fleeing.

Turning to the woman who, he noticed, was almost as shaken as her assailant, Loki asked, "Are you hurt?"

The redhead shook her head, blue eyes wide as she took him in, before finding her voice and saying haltingly, "No, I-I'm fine, thanks." She knelt onto the ground jerkily, picking up her jewelry and money.

"You appear shaken," Loki observed with a calm tilt of his head, curiously noticing a there-and-gone flash of orange light seemingly coming from within her wrist.

"And you appear…" She trailed off as she glanced up at him, and then decided upon the word, "Cold."

Loki snorted, drawling, "Indeed."

"Are you… a mutant?" the woman guessed hesitantly.

"I'm sorry?"

"A mutant. You know," she stood and looked up at him, offering, "Rogue, Wolverine, Cyclops… mutant."

"Ah, yes." Maybe he should thank her later for giving him an easy out to the honest answer. "Yes, I'm a… mutant."

She assessed him for a second before asking, "Do you have a place to stay overnight? I've got to be careful with my money right now, but I'd like to repay you somehow for helping me."

Well, and wasn't that a fine stroke of good fortune! This woman was turning out to be a god-send – not that Odin would have directed such kindness towards his adopted son.

"If you're offering accommodations, than I would accept them gratefully."

"Okay. Well, why don't we go somewhere else and talk besides this place? Dark alleys aren't great for conversation."

"Very well," Loki agreed.

"But… we're not exactly going to be able to get a cab with you like that… so I guess we're walking from here."

"Perhaps not," Loki replied. "What is your address?" She gave him a strange look, but rattled it off before he ordered, "Wrap your arms around me."

"What?!"

"It's part of my… mutation; I swear no harm will come to you."

Looking at him like he had lost his mind – and maybe he had – she nervously wrapped her arms around his waist, and he was surprised at the heat that radiated from off of her skin. Then within the blink of an eye they were inside her small apartment.

"What?" the woman whispered, looking around in awe at the familiar surroundings. "How did you do that?"

"Teleportation," Loki said easily, grinning a little as he unwound the stunned woman's arms from around his waist.

"Oh…" she said softly, tugging her black suit jacket back into place as she tried to appear calm. "Okay."

"I presume you have a name?" Loki asked with arched eyebrows.

"Yes, of course, I'm, uh, P-" she flinched as if she'd just made a mistake and said, "Virginia Potts. You are?"

"I didn't think mutants gave out their names."

"They have a code name or something, then, don't they?"

Ms. Potts appeared to know more about mutants than he did, and he was supposed to be one! This was an impossibly thinly constructed cover. He was going to be dead inside of a week. Inside of the next twenty-four hours, if he didn't get his act together.

"I…yes." Think, Loki! "I am… Frost."