When Payton and Andy returned to the kitchen, they found Loki standing, trembling, his mind obviously elsewhere, as he stared vacantly out the window.

"Hey, Loki?" Payton spoke up, as Andy watched from afar. "You okay?"

"I have to get off this planet…" He murmured, not even turning to look at them.

"You and me, both, pal…" Andy rolled her eyes, but Payton shot her a glare. "Be nice."

The older woman shook her head. "You know what, I got to get to work, have fun with your new pet."

Loki shuddered at that last word, the only sign he'd been listening at all, and stumbled backwards. As Andy stormed out, Payton gently took Loki's hand and led him to the couch. "Hey, look at me." Loki obliged, with an effort.

Payton forced herself to not consider what it was that had him so worked up. What frightened a murderer? A psychopathic genocidal supervillain? "Breathe, okay?" She ordered, lowering her naturally soft voice to keep his attention.

"In for four." She demonstrated with herself. "Out for two."

Loki's hands were shaking, but he forced himself to comply.

"Good job." She smiled, and sat down beside him. "You're doing great."

A few moments passed, before Loki could breathe normally. "Sorry…" He muttered, glancing down at his fidgeting fingers in shame.

"That's okay." Payton nodded. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Must I?" Loki gave her a martyred lance.

"No."

Loki seemed rather surprised at this revelation. What did he take her for, some sort of prying meddler who can't mind her own business? Far from it.

"I'm not going to make you do anything." She informed him. "The collar keeps you from doing anything I'd tell you not to do, anyway, so consider me your new roommate."

"Roommate." He echoed dubiously, obviously trying to cover up that he had no idea what that meant.

"Yeah." She agreed. "Like, someone who lives in the same house as me, and that's all." She omitted the fact that most roommates would help pay for rent, or things like that. He was obviously terrified, he didn't need to worry about chore division, yet.

"I… see." Loki nodded, and frowned. "So… the house is partly mine?"

Payton hesitated, mulling the idea over in her head. If part of the house was Loki's, there would be nothing to stop him from breaking the things that weren't her property. And that would be frustrating, to say the least. "Typically… yes." She slowly admitted. "But, no offense, I don't exactly know you very well, so there's nothing stopping you from smashing stuff, once it's not mine, anymore."

"Fair." Loki nodded, but he was obviously a little disappointed. "So… What's next?"

Payton shrugged. She hadn't really thought that far ahead. She'd hoped Andy would be able to help her, but there was obviously no aid from her sister, even with what Payton had told her. It was getting rather late, anyway, so she might as well get dinner started. She got up, and shook herself. There was something mesmerizing about being in the Trickster's presence, something ethereal and mysterious. She almost felt reluctant, as she walked into the kitchen. Loki was a masterpiece of pain, a puzzle she couldn't help but want to put together, but if she wanted to get anything productive done, she had to be able to at least leave the room he was in.

Detachedly, she began pulling out her ingredients, a cast-iron skillet, cutting board and knife, and began cutting up vegetables, her mind swimming with confusion.

She hadn't just been drawing, those first fifteen minutes. Andy was a SHIELD agent, so her sister found it rather easy to poke her nose where it didn't exactly belong. It hadn't taken much for her to confirm her theory. Pulling up a few images of Loki, inside his cell, during the invasion, it was easy to see what had occurred.

The blue eyes, the constant aura of weariness surrounding the Trickster, the swiftly gyrating emotions, and above all, the plan, so riddled with holes that it looked like swiss cheese. What had gone on, what Loki had done, it obviously wasn't him.

Lok's eyes were striking, as green as emeralds, and they were first thing she'd noticed about him. Not a shadow of blue in them. She'd heard, from Andy, that Clint's grey-blue eyes had turned blue when he was mind-controlled. It was obviously the same thing, at work, here. The only question at play, now was who really was behind the invasion. But Payton could leave that to her sister, as she was trained in answer-finding.

"Am I to assist you?" Loki's voice spoke up, and Payton jumped in surprise, nicking the end of her finger with the knife. With a hiss of pain, she inserted her finger into her mouth, and spun around to face her new… friend.

"Okay, new rule." She declared, inspecting the cut. "Don't sneak up on me when I'm working with sharp things."

Loki's brow furrowed in concern. "Are you hurt? I'm terribly sorry…"

"Don't worry about it." She sighed, and turned back to the carrot.

"No, really." He murmured, and gently caught her hand in his own. "Let me see it."

Payton blinked in shock. Why in the world would he want to see it? Still, she turned her hand over, displaying the cut. He nodded, and brushed a thumb over it, a green haze dancing around the ends of his fingers. When he released her, the cut was healed.

As if it had never been harmed in the first place. He's like Rapunzel… She shook her head in confusion. "Um… Thanks."

Loki nodded, and rounded the counter, regarding the proceeds with confused interest. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Well, you already fixed my finger." She pointed out. "So, I think that can be your good deed of the day."

Loki's gaze flickered in confusion, and he solemnly nodded. "But… shouldn't I serve you? I am your slave, after all."

"I already told you you're not." Payton corrected, and dumped the diced carrot slices into the skillet. "Roommate, remember?"

"Ah, yes…" Loki didn't appear to understand in the least, and absent-mindedly traced a finger along the edge of that awful collar.

Payton gave the mixed vegetables a stir with a spatula, and then leaned over the counter, chin resting on her fists as she surveyed her new roommate. "So, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

If Loki had been surprised, before, now he was utterly gob smacked. "You… You want to know about… me?" He gasped, jaw dropped. "Why in the nine realms?"

"I don't know, it was worth a shot." Payton shrugged. "This living situation isn't exactly ideal, for both parties involved, so we might as well learn to get along. Want me to go first?"

Loki gaped for another few seconds, then silently nodded. Probably, he hadn't been expecting that at all. "Well, okay…" Payton fussed with her hair. "Um… I don't do this very often. I'm not exactly what you would call a people person. I'm Payton Plantt, but you knew that, already." She absently gave the vegetables another stir. "I'm twenty-four. I'm an illustrator for children's books. Andy's my only living relative, unless you count her twins, Hope and Asher. They're over here all the time, and typically, I have them sleep in your room, so I'll have to work out where I'll put everyone next time they come over. I don't exactly have… friends… I love drawing and painting, obviously. I'm pretty good at singing and cooking, too, but I can't dance to save my life. Your turn."

"My turn…" Loki echoed in confusion. "Well… you know I'm Loki. I'm one thousand-forty-three years old. I don't exactly have an occupation, at this point…" He balked. "I think that's all."

Payton smirked. "You're not that two-dimensional, no one is. What do you like to do? Like, for fun? Do you have any siblings besides Thor?"

Loki's eyes flicked up in annoyance, meeting her gaze defiantly. "Thor is not my brother." He declared, his voice as cold as a winter wind.

Payton tilted her head curiously, stubbornly refusing to be fazed by his anger. "Really? That's not what he said…"

"He is an idiot." Loki ground out, and stiffened visibly. "We're not even the same species."

"Alright!" Payton knew when to back off. "You got any interests, then?"

He was obviously still smarting from the whole Thor-is-not-my-brother thing, but he sighed, and shook his head. "I… I suppose I enjoy reading? And… horse-back riding."

Payton nodded encouragingly. She knew what he was doing. She often did it herself to people she didn't feel safe with. He was hiding himself from her. Eventually, he might open up, and they could be friends, but until then, she would have to respect his boundaries.

Loki stared at the dish before him in open disgust. Sautéed vegetables on rice. Peasant food. Payton had given him the plate, then taken her own serving into her studio, and left him to dine alone, at his own leisure.

The stuff looked and smelled revolting.

Hesitantly, while choking down a gag, he prodded the misshapen lump with his fork. Why in the world was he lowered to this state? Eating peasant food in a mortal's house, technically her slave, but she pitied him too much to treat him as a proper bondservant.

What really confused him was why she didn't simply kill him, or at least use the collar to send him into torment forever, as revenge for her late brother. He'd murdered him in cold blood. (Sorta) Didn't that justify at least some form of revenge? But she'd been nothing but kind, so far. In fact, she'd even protected him from her sister's wrath.

It was all so dreadfully confusing. Dejectedly, he rested his cheek on his fist, and stared out into inner space, his thoughts wandering to Asgard. Had Odin told Thor he wasn't actually dead? Would Thor care? He hadn't seemed exactly pleased with his bro… with Loki, the last time they'd been together. Sure, he was politely devastated when Loki faked his death, but that must have been put on. Thor hadn't even cared enough to bring him to a healer, or at least back to Asgard for a proper funeral.

Typical.

With a scoff, he stuffed the forkful of what passed for Midgardian fare into his mouth…

It actually wasn't so bad.

Rather relieved that it didn't taste like it smelt, he quickly polished off the rest of the dish, and placed the plate on the counter. He had no idea how to wash dishes, so he didn't even try. Payton was still busy in her studio, so he trotted down to the very-uncomfortable-bed, and pulled off his boots. It seemed so abrupt to go to sleep so quickly, but he hadn't been given to do anything else.

For half a minute, he considered going to inform Payton that he was turning in, yet that would make her think she had to tuck him in, or something. He wasn't six. He could go to bed without his mother kissing him goodnight.

At the thought of his mother, a fresh pang of loss stabbed through his heart, and he dejectedly curled up on the lumpy mattress, wrapping his arms around his middle.

He'd never see her, again. He'd never be able to spill his grievances to her, or discuss the theorem he was researching, or make sly quips about the stupider half of their family…

It was all over.

He'd ruined it all.

He was a grown man. He certainly did not cry himself to sleep, that night.

TheOnlyHuman.