It had nearly been a year since the start of Loki's imprisonment. By now, Loki had grown enormously bored of the same four walls, regardless of the comforting attempts to make it a home. Since their last talk, Jonathan and Loki hardly spoke. The guard only brought Loki's food and left without a word every day. Frankly, Loki missed having someone other than his mother to talk with.
But one day, out of the blue, Jonathan spoke. Without preamble, he stated, "I'm going to do it." Loki, who had been reading in his easy chair, looked up, blinking. "I'm sorry, are we speaking now?" he asked loftily. "Stop that, Loki, I'm serious. I'm leaving. Tomorrow evening," Jonathan mumbled, acting casually. "Are you?" Loki responded sarcastically, holding the place in his book with a finger. He watched Jonathan looking in at him as if he wanted some last words. Sniffing, he opened up his book again and lifted it to read again. "Best wishes to you," he said dismissively.
Jonathan watched him wordlessly for a few moments before he nodded once sharply. "Right," he muttered, turning on his heel to walk away. Loki's eyes flicked up to watch him go. A wistful smirk crossed his lips. He'd be better off away from Asgard. At least one misfit may find a home, he thought.