Hearing a door knob turn, Loki peeled himself away from the wall, ducking his head. A bright rectangle of light appeared as the door creaked open, the black silhouettes of three men walking into the room was outlined harshly. The whole room flooded with light as the door closed behind them, revealing Mickey and two armed UNIT guards. Loki could now see the true emptiness of the room, save a chair place dead centre. Darting his eyes up at the movement, he saw Mickey looking dead in his eyes and nodding toward the chair. Facing the chair, possibilities were flashing through his mind. If he ran fast enough, could he disarm all three? Surely, in a heartbeat. Even easier, he could conjure some illusions to distract them, and steal a card key.

None of these options would help in Rose's favor, he thought as he sighed to himself. This tedious interrogation would have to happen, in some degree. Hurting her coworkers would only put her further in danger. Was she in a room just like his? Resigned, Loki strode to the chair, perching himself on the edge and reaching up a hand to smooth back his forgotten hair.

"What are you planning?" Mickey was leaning back against the closed door, arms crossed against his chest, the two guards flanking his sides. His voice was shaking, it was obvious that was taking a massive amount of restraint for him to seem so calm, though his act was atrocious.

Loki was expecting it. The same question would be repeated over and over. But he truly didn't know how to answer it. No matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried to convince them that he was going to help, they wouldn't listen. Well, perhaps the guards might. But Loki could tell that Rose and Mickey had a past, some personal relationship that had had it's share of strains, and now he was going to go to the ends of the earth to protect what they had left. Therefore, he remained silent, his mouth in an almost invisible line tight across his face.

Mickey, knuckles poking white against the stretched skin of his clenched hand, lowered his arms and took a step forward. One hand twitched toward the gun holstered at his side.

"I said, what. Are. You. Planning?" he emphasized each word with another step, until he was towering over where Loki was seated.

"I just..." Loki glanced down at the gun which seemed to be Mickey's greatest temptation of the moment, and then back up to see the guards with passive expressions on their faces. This wasn't the first time a 'peaceful' interrogation had gone this way. He raised his eyesight back to the man in front of him. "I just want to help Ms. Tyler so I can return home."

"Go home, eh?" Mickey snarled, teeth bared. He stepped back again, to get a full view of the alien seated before him. "And how exactly does kidnapping a Torchwood agent accomplish that?"

"Kidnapping? I do believe the fact that Rose came with me was of her own accord." Loki bit his tongue, words out of his mouth before he could stop them. His interrogator flinched at the familiar use of Rose's name, but the alien kept his face smooth, unwilling to let the familiarity become too apparent.

"Ms. Tyler," Mickey started, in a strained voice, "knows better than to betray the Torchwood name."

"Well then," Loki smirked, leaning forward on the edge of his seat, "Perhaps, Mickey Smith, you don't know Rose as well as you think."

This time he meant to use hurtful words. Perhaps it was his natural edge for mischief or perhaps he just didn't like the man in front of him. Either way, the effect was noticeable and immediate. Mickey turned, nostrils flared, and something low to the guards. They spun on their feet and, with a swipe of a card, exited the room, taking place on either side of the door in the hallway. Mickey slowly shuts the door, his shoulders visibly tense. As soon as the door clicked, locked in place, he whipped around and within a few short steps he was in front of Loki again. Pulling back a hand, he struck the pale face with a closed fist. The contact was hard, causing Mickey to back up a few steps, nursing his clenched hand, and Loki shook his head slightly, regaining shaking off the pain.

Loki straightened his neck, bring ice cold eyes to level with the flaming hot ones of Mickey. He searched the others' face, leaving no emotion on his own. He had not intended violence. And he would not stand for it. With a feline grace, he raised himself from his seat until he was standing. Loki easily stood over Mickey, height and powerful presence on his side. He didn't take his eyes from the others' face as Mickey drew a pair of handcuffs out from his pocket. A frightened doubt flickered across his dark face and seeing it, a cold grin broke out on Loki's white one. The way the grin spread with ease, and didn't seem to reach his eyes, caused the scared look on Mickey's face to become more intense.

"You think you can restrain me with such flimsy Midgardian metal?" Loki barked out a laugh. "You're more of a pathetic mortal than I thought."

The insult enraged Mickey, his teeth bared even wider than before, though he still seemed apprehensive of Loki's power. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the cuffs at Loki, hitting him along the cheekbone and tearing the skin.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" Mickey was shouting, spit escaping from between his lips. "Some kind of... alien mind control? HUH? You make her right again!"

Each phrase was accentuated with a blow somewhere to Loki's person. Mickey no longer cared about himself, he was anger and rage and couldn't stop himself from letting it all out. A swift kick was placed to the alien's abdomen and a low punch brought Loki to his knees. Beads of sweat started to bead along the pale skin under inky black hair.

Breathing hard, staring at what he had done, Mickey turned quickly and opened the door, growling something to a guard outside. As he did so, Loki did an inventory of himself. He was starting to ache, his face was bleeding. The wounds were most likely to be superficial on his perfect skin, but they certainly looked bad. He knew how this was going to end. And he had to let it happen.

Mickey disappeared through the door as a guard strode in to take his place. He closed the door slowly, pausing from dramatic effect after it was locked, then turned, assessing the broken looking man kneeling before him. From his back pocket, the guard withdrew a wickedly sharp double-edged blade, which glinted hauntingly in the fluorescent lights. When he spoke, a low, determined voice erupted from behind shark- like teeth.

"Handcuffs or not, we're just getting started."