I read and reread the play over and over again, using it as my new muse. I would set scenes in my sketchbook: Romeo imploring Juliet under her balcony, their secret marriage by the Friar, their first night together. The last was immediately torn out and thrown in the corner, like its presence in my book sullied its surrounding images. How horny am I? I felt like I was rushing through images, trying to get them penciled before they left my mind. I never spent multiple consecutive hours on any single page, instead flipping between them to finish aspects. The drawings were getting better, though as it was only me who saw them you can take that with a grain of salt.

I was contemplating drawing my flat mate when a soft knock on my door startled me. Is his goal in life to scare me as often as possible? I stood from my bed and opened the door. He was standing before me in an all-black structured suit-like outfit with his hands behind his back, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Good evening, Lady Wren. I hope I find you well."

Lady? Again? "I'm quite well, thanks. You're back early."

His left eyebrow raised and his smile turned into a smirk, "Is that right?"

"I mean—I think so—I don't know—" Thoroughly flustered, I brushed my long, dark hair behind my ear, looking away while I felt the blush burn across my face. "Is there something you needed?"

"I came across another tome like the last that you might be interested in." bringing his hands forward, he produced a much rattier book than the last, but the embossed words on the cover made my heart clench, "Hamlet, Prince of Denmark." My favorite tragedy. A perfectly written work of art that has inspired countless artists over the years. "It's by the same author, correct?"

"Yes, thought to be one of his crowning achievements."

"It is by divine happenstance that I came across these works, I am pleased they are you your satisfaction."

"Very much so. I can't really express how much they mean to me."

"I am gratified by your appreciation."

I smiled at him, careful not to maintain eye contact for too long. "Off again?"

"Unfortunately, yes. The Grand Master requires my presence once again."

"Ah. Well, have…fun?" Was it fun, hanging with the Grand Creep?

"Fun would never be my word for it, more like work."

"Work?"

"One must be careful to maintain a certain air whilst in his presence; he is quick to execute anyone he perceives as against him."

"Sounds scary."

"It's less scary if you grew up well versed in lies, like I have been."

"Well, I wish you luck then."

"I gladly accept it, Lady Wren. Good Evening."

I watched him leave from my doorway. He walked with such confidence and grace. It wasn't fair that this was the same man that had committed such atrocities back home. For Fuck's sake— Not now Brain, I know, I know!

I began looking forward to the moments we spent together, however brief they were. It felt like months had gone by, the passage of time only marked by those encounters. Every few meetings, I would be presented with a new book. Some were unknown to me; some were old favorites. Either way, they were my anchors; they kept me connected to my home. Slowly, Loki was filling that previously empty bookcase, and I was relishing in it. I had never been able to keep any kind of book collection, even in college; needing instead to rent or return books due to my own financial situation. I now had my own library, albeit small, to peruse.

Some evenings, I was graced with his presence for a longer time meaning he was released from some evening obligation to the Grand Master early. By longer, I mean he was home for twenty to thirty minutes before retiring to his room. One such evening, we sat on the couches facing the most recent floral arrangement made up of dinner-plate-sized orange roses and long spiky blue-green grasses.

"So, you mentioned your mother was an, Arnithologist? Is that right?"

"Ornithologist, but yeah. An amateur one at least." That was, like, three months ago. How did he remember that?

"So, what is the significance in your name?"

"Well, she said wrens were always thought of as small and inconspicuous, but had very loud and complex songs. I was born premature, with an ear splitting cry so I guess that fits, and I have always been the talker of the family."

"You seem so quiet, are you hiding yourself from me?" A smirk and a gleam in his eye made me blush.

"I'm still trying to figure out what I am here."

"Does one's location dictate their person?"

"When one's freedom is stolen and is then forced to become something other than one has ever identified as before, one must reevaluate the self and adapt accordingly." I realized after saying it, that it might be taken as rude; as if I was blaming him for my captivity. Glancing up, I saw a contemplative face rather than an irritated one.

"I hadn't thought of that before. What exactly did you do before arriving here?"

"I was a student of sixteenth-century literature."

"I forget how young your world is, sixteen centuries."

"We were up to the twenty-first, and, before humans, it did exist for millions of years." I felt a weird drive to defend the earth, like a teenager who was called a kid by an older cousin.

"How correct you are, my mistake. I meant, I forgot how young your race is."

"That, I will accept."

"Well thank you, Milady. I appreciate your acceptance, ever your humble servant." He stood, miming a deep bow with a dramatic flourish of his hands, making me simultaneously laugh out loud and blush. "On that note, Lady Wren, I bid you a good night."

I tried to hide the disappointment on my face as I joined him in standing, each of us heading to our respective doors. I was stuck wishing for more time with him. I'm becoming addicted to him. Is this a good turn of events? Am I some dumb damsel desperately clinging to the nearest male? Bitch, you are strong, brilliant and wonderful; if anything, he's clinging to you! Thanks Brain, I appreciate the boost.