Loki groggily opened his eyes to the sound of Freddy whining and scratching at the bedroom door. Pulling off the soft, Vellux blanket, he blinked the crud out of his eyes and wiped his drooling mouth. Dried blood made his sleeve stick to his skin, which he painfully, carefully peeled off, terrified of opening the wound and making it bleed again. Thankfully, it looked to be healing well. Sunshine lit up the pastel blue floral wallpaper in Sylvie's bedroom and warmed the place nicely. It glinted off of the chrome metal keys of a beige typewriter in the corner, gathering dust on a desk and surrounded by junk.
"Are you decent?" called Sylvie from the other side of the door.
He yawned before answering, "Come in."
Before he even saw Sylvie's face, Freddy came barging through, running straight for the bed and leaping on top of him, bombarding him with slobber.
"Oh, Freddy, down!" she said, less patient with him than she'd been yesterday. She pushed him gently off the bed, then crossed quickly to her closet, digging out a clean copy of her work uniform, identical to the one she'd worn the day before.
"I'm late," she sighed, gathering up her underthings from a drawer. "And I'm going to be late coming home, too. I need to pick up a couple things from my parents' place. I know you're probably not used to being asked to, you know, do things, being royalty and all-"
She stopped abruptly as she dropped her pair of socks and had to wrestle them out of Freddy's mouth. Loki already didn't like where this was going.
"Do I have to come to work with you?" he said. "Because I don't know how to use a cash register and I've never had to make change in my life. I've never cooked, either. Ever."
She pried her socks out of Freddy's jaws and stared at him, uncomprehending, then burst into bright, breathless laughter.
"No, no!" she said with a snort. "Oh, that would be too funny! But no, please don't try to work at McDonald's."
He relaxed and let out a small sigh.
"Would you take Freddy for a walk today, please? Sometimes there's already a pile of poo at the door when I get home. He can't hold it in all the time if I'm late."
Loki tensed again and glared at the hairy monstrosity scratching himself with his back paws and chewing on his own feet. He'd almost rather start his first day incognito flipping burgers.
"I … suppose."
"Great," she said, with a relieved eye roll, the words falling out of her a million miles a minute. "You're a peach. His lead's hanging on the coat tree, just clip it on to the metal ring on his collar and walk him around the neighborhood a few times until he goes. And pick up the mess 'cause the neighbors will throw a bloody fit over it.
"Oh, speaking of bloody! Good Lord, cover that cut on your arm when you go out, don't forget. Wear your coat."
Loki nodded slowly, trying to remember what she'd just rattled off through his morning haze. Sylvie stared at him expectantly as if she was waiting for something, all of her clothes gathered haphazardly in her arms.
"Do you need me to leave the room?" he said.
"Yes," she said with an emphatic nod.
He did so, Freddy following behind him as she shut the door. He gave the shaggy, panting mutt another glance.
"It's just you and me today, dog," he mumbled. As if on cue, Freddy sneezed loudly, covering Loki's hand in slobber.
He cringed and wiped his hand on his chest as best he could. This was going to be torture.
After Sylvie had left for the day, he fixed himself a meager lunch of toast and beans. He figured out how to use the toaster by himself, and didn't bother to find a tool that would open the beans, using the same trick he had on the beer.
He had no idea what to feed the dog, so he gave him the other half of the can of beans, slopping it into his food bowl. Freddy lapped it up, getting sauce all over his already stained beard. That turned out to be a mistake. As soon as Loki was done with his food, Freddy was already whining and barking and scratching at the front door to go out.
"Ugh, fine," said Loki. He snapped his fingers, changing magically into a clean white buttoned down shirt.
With some difficulty, he managed to clip the leash on Freddy's collar and get him out the door. The sun still lay hidden behind clouds that day, and a cool, blustery wind blew down the street. The last time he'd been to England, horse drawn carriages clattered down the streets, leaving piles and piles of dung that were impossible to avoid. At least everything looked cleaner, now, though it smelled of leaded gasoline every time a car drove by.
As he walked, Freddy frantically sniffed at the grass under a tree, circling around it, looking for a good place to poop. He found it quickly, leaving an enormous pile that Loki couldn't even imagine touching, even with a ten foot pole and for all the gold in Asgard. It was definitely someone else's problem. He tugged on Freddy's leash to turn around and go home, when an old woman turned the corner and greeted him before he could get away.
"Oh, good morning!" she said, toddling towards him with a cane in hand. The bespectacled woman wore a kerchief over her gray, curled locks and a long, brown overcoat on her shoulders. "Lovely weather, eh?"
He gave her a tight smile and responded, "Yes, lovely. A bit cold." He knew that these people customarily used weather reports as a greeting, for some reason, though it baffled him. Every day had been exactly the same on Asgard. Commenting on the weather would be like asking how the mountains were doing that day.
"It's supposed to warm up a bit," she said, blinking at him through her thick, horn rimmed glasses.
"Fantastic. Goodbye." he said through gritted teeth. He pulled Freddy along and tried to sneak around the old woman, but she piped up again, to his chagrin.
"Pardon me for being nosy, but you're new on this block, aren't you?"
He stifled a loud sigh and faced the woman again. He could have just turned her into a squirrel and let Freddy have a go at her, but he needed to keep a low profile. He'd felt lucky so far that the TVA hadn't targeted him, or Sylvie. No need to paint a target on his own back.
"Quite new, yes. Just moved in yesterday."
Her gray, wiry eyebrows shot up over her Coke bottle glasses and a prim little smile crossed her face that he didn't like much at all. She hobbled over to him and stood much too close, having to crane her neck up to look at him.
"Young man, I saw you come off the bus with Sylvie Black, am I right?"
He placed the feeling of unease, then. The woman was fishing for gossip to spread all over the place. He'd seen the same in the royal palace, watched older noblewomen gossip viciously about each other behind their own backs, all for a tiny bit more favor in the court. He'd learned some of his best insults from those biddies.
She'd already seen him and Sylvie together, and he was walking her dog, so there didn't seem like a more believable lie he could tell. He knew when a lie would only cause more suspicion instead of covering his tracks. He nodded.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, putting both wrinkled hands on her cane. "Lovely! What's her new married name going to be, hmm?"
"Married … name?"
"You know! She's going to be a Mrs. soon, isn't she? Or are you one of those new-fashioned couples that doesn't get married right away?"
Loki stammered. This old lady was three steps ahead of him. He had to admire her skill. She'd had decades of backbiting practice.
"Well, my name is … Luke … Sky … man." The syllables fell out of him randomly. He swore he'd heard something close to that name on Earth at some point and hoped it wasn't too obvious.
"Luke Skyman?" she said, a bit of a frown forming at the edge of her lips. "Is that a Jewish name?"
"Yes. My grandmother was Jewish. On my uncle's side."
She nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer at first, then furrowing her brow in confusion, then shaking her head and putting her innocent smile back on.
"Well, I'm just so glad to see her with someone. The poor girl comes home from work every day and walks her dog, nothing else. I was starting to worry about her. She's not quite a girl anymore, you know. Have to take what comes to you, if you know what I mean! Goodness, she got lucky, though!"
She threw her head back and cackled like a witch. A mean little glint formed in her eye, visible even through her thick glasses, one he knew too well. She hid it nicely behind her adorable old lady disguise.
"I suppose I did see her with someone else, once, but … " She frowned and waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind. It was a long time ago."
"Great. Well, have a nice day," he said, and turned to go, but the old crone wasn't done with him.
"I probably should let you know, though, since you're her future husband and all," she added quickly, raising her voice.
Loki turned once again, ever so slowly, a look of saintly patience plastered on his face. He was about thirty seconds away from making the hag explode right there on the sidewalk.
She raised one hand and gesticulated as she spoke, the other clutching her cane tightly so she could lean in and whisper as loudly as she could.
"Last summer, I saw Sylvie get off the bus and go upstairs with a woman. That's not unusual at all, I thought. It could have been a friend, or a relative. They were holding hands, though, and giving each other looks. You know the kind."
Loki gave her a single nod. If he'd tried to speak then, he would have literally bitten off her head.
"Well, I happened to be in my garden a little while later, tending to my flowers, when I heard these noises coming from the garden next door. That's where she lives, right next to me. They sounded kind of awful, like someone moaning in pain, so of course I ventured a look over the fence."
She leaned in even closer, so close he could smell nasty, stale perfume and mothballs, with a whiff of halitosis.
"Sylvie and that other girl were … together … doing things to each other I wouldn't dare say in polite company."
She leaned back, closed her eyes, and gave him a satisfied nod, full of fake sympathy. It took everything Loki had in him not to spit directly in her myopic eye. He had a much better idea forming quickly in the back of his head, though.
A sarcastic smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "That's it?"
The smile melted off of her own face, replaced by confusion.
"Well, yes. It's a significant thing, I'd say."
Loki leaned over her a bit, using the advantage of his height to distract her while he levitated the gargantuan pile of dog poop from the grass to just behind her left foot.
"And why, pray tell, should I give single rat's arse?"
She stammered and huffed, her mouth wide open as if she meant to catch flies with it. "It's a scientific fact," she finally stuttered, "that homosexuals are six times as likely to carry VD as normal people. I read it in the paper. I've nothing against them, I suppose, but if you didn't know already, then I'm doing you a favor."
"Six times?" he said, eyes wide in mock surprise. "Bullshit. You pulled that out of your arse, you filthy old toad."
He gave her his best predatory glare paired with a vicious grin.
"I don't care where Sylvie's been. I don't care what her fingers have touched. I don't care what her lips have kissed. I don't care who has caressed her body. You miserable 'normal' people treat a romp in the hay like an unforgivable sin, like the world has always conformed to your narrow, fragile, feeble minds."
As he spoke, Loki leaned in as far as he could without getting another whiff of her horrible breath. She leaned back as well, indignantly clutching imaginary pearls to her chest. Just one step backward, he thought. That's all I need. She had to do it quickly, too, before the stench made her investigate too closely.
"Fine, then!" she exclaimed. The old hag actually pushed him forward a bit with her cane. She wasn't giving up easily. "If you don't care, then that's your problem. But if you get sores and scabs and mites all over you, you'll be sure to know where they came from! Good day!"
Before he could think of what to do, she pushed forward past him. He didn't even have the split second he needed to get the droppings underfoot before she noticed. He was sorely tempted to toss them straight at her head, instead.
Just then, Freddy barked loudly at something, which startled her so much that she stumbled backwards again, stepping directly into the dog mess with her heel.
She felt it and saw it and smelled it all at the same time. The look on her face was absolutely glorious. He could have framed it.
"Oh ... Oh my God!" she screeched. She tried wiping it away, tapping it off with her cane, only to spread it around more. "That wasn't there!"
Loki smiled at his small victory, though he would have liked to have seen Freddy tear her to shreds, too. He tipped an imaginary hat to her.
"Good day, madam," he said cheerfully, then turned and walked away with Freddy at his side.
He giggled to himself as they ascended the steps, then let out a peal of laughter once he'd closed the door behind him. He could still hear her shrieking and crying down the street. He peeked out the window to see her trying to wipe off her shoe and cane in a patch of grass, blubbering to herself and letting out a string of curses every ten seconds.
He gave Freddy a grin, and if he didn't know any better, it looked like Freddy was grinning back.
"I think we're friends now, Freddy. What do you think?"
Freddy coughed and snorted in reply, then headed to the bathroom to take a long drink out of the toilet.
Loki shuddered. Perhaps he did care a bit about what Sylvie's lips had kissed, as she had definitely kissed that dog on the mouth.
Much later in the day, Loki sat down on the floor and attempted to figure out how to use the record player. He'd seen it done before, but never tried it himself. There were so many human things he'd never experienced, nor even imagined he wanted to do. He might as well learn: he had the time and the incentive to blend in with this world better than he had during his other trips to Midgard. There was something satisfying about completing a task with his own two hands instead of a wave of magic. If Sylvie didn't get home soon, he'd try his hand at boiling water for tea. It was starting to get dark outside, but he focused on the record player instead of the worry building in the back of his mind.
Freddy plopped down on Loki's lap without the slightest hesitation, though he was too big to fit snugly, staring up at him and wagging his tail.
"We showed that old bitch, didn't we, boy?" he said, patting Freddy's bottom. He must be going mad, talking to the dog, but to his credit Freddy was an excellent listener. Loki didn't even mind the canine smell permeating the flat anymore.
After pressing some buttons and lifting the lever, he gingerly took a black vinyl record out of its sleeve, by a woman named Kate Bush, and placed it on the turntable. The needle didn't catch at first, making a horrible scratch spiraling around the record. With a wince, Loki caught the arm of the record player and tried again. This time, the record played rich tones from its speakers, natural and synthesized, punctuated by oddly beautiful key changes and a high, glistening, female voice, though also with a little static noise where the needle hit the scratch. The music was hypnotizing, with hardly a rhyme and a rhythm all its own, unlike most of the Midgardian songs he'd heard. It was as if she was an alien, too, recording her feelings of Earth into lilting song.
Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.
A slow thumping noise from the hallway disrupted his reverie. It grew louder and closer, so loud that he could feel it through the floorboards.
Freddy perked up his floppy ears and growled. Loki trusted the dog's instincts. He made a couple of daggers appear out of thin air. He imagined a Hunter's TVA issued boots clomping slowly upstairs, ready with a pruning stick at hand. Loki's heart leapt to his throat. He'd let himself get too comfortable, too soft, too sloppy.
His mouth went dry. What if they'd found Sylvie? A human variant of her would have no chance of surviving in The Void.
Suddenly the thunking stopped, as did his heart. He turned off the record player and listened closely to a rustling noise just outside the door. He figured he could turn himself invisible, sneak to the door, and then slit the throat of the first Hunter and fight his way through the rest before-
Freddy leapt up from his lap and barked, scaring the absolute shit out of Loki. The dog ran for the door, emitting a high pitched howl, tail wagging so fast it looked like it would fall off. The door cracked open and Sylvie appeared, puffing and panting, looking utterly exhausted.
Loki let go of the breath he was holding and made his daggers disappear from his clammy hands. If he'd gotten to the door sooner, he could have slit her throat on accident.
She smiled through her tired face and cooed to Freddy while dragging a square, wheeled, metal cart with a long handle, its basket full to the brim with a variety of bags and assorted junk. She rolled it behind her on two larger wheels, awkwardly pulling it through the door. That had to have been what was making the noise as she dragged it upstairs. Freddy sniffed the strange new object all over, but Sylvie patted him away from it.
"Sorry I took so long," she sighed, setting the cart down on all four wheels. "Left late, bus was late, parents made me stay late for supper. I would have given you a ring, but I figured you might not know how to use the telephone."
"I'm glad you're home," he said. She fished a small bag out of her purse and fed a handful of stale french fries to Freddy, which he gobbled up like he'd never eaten anything in his life.
"Did you feed him today?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "Beans."
She blinked at him in silence, then groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You fed the dog beans?" she grumbled.
He shrugged. "I've no clue what dogs eat. He seemed to like them."
"Loki, dogs will eat just about anything. Doesn't mean it's good for them."
He gestured to Freddy, who was licking stray salt off the floor.
"You give him … what are they called … fries, don't you? How am I supposed to know what to feed him? I've never had a dog."
She put her purse and coat on the rack.
"That's my fault, then," she said sincerely. "I didn't think of that. I'm grateful there's not dog diarrhea everywhere, though."
"No, no. He did his duty outside." A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. She'd surely appreciate his story.
Before he could tell it, though, she rolled the cart over to him, a very interested Freddy following behind.
"Can you make sure he doesn't get into this stuff?" she said, pulling her fingers through her long hair. "I have to get out of this uniform. I'm sweating like a pig."
She left him alone with Freddy as she changed in her bedroom. Delicious smells wafted from the cloth bags in the metal cart, so Loki opened them to have a look, Freddy staring intently, drooling. Inside the bags were carefully arranged plastic tubs, tin cans, paper boxes, and lumpy things wrapped in tinfoil. He took out a white tub that was labeled as margarine, but felt warm to the touch. It was filled to the brim with peas, slathered in butter. There was a paper carton full of fresh eggs. He peeked into a tinfoil lump to see some kind of pastry with a hole on the top. Another yellow container held a few choice bits of what smelled like lamb, smothered in a green sauce.
Freddy let out a loud, pathetic whine and stared up at him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen on an animal.
"Not for you," he said smugly. This stuff at least looked like it was for human consumption. The meat especially reminded him of the roasts he'd been served every day of his royal upbringing. He hoped Sylvie wouldn't mind sharing, as he was starving.
He snuck a tiny piece of lamb, which was very good, especially with the fresh-tasting mint sauce. It took a little self control not to eat all of it right then.
Freddy gave him an indignant huff and licked his hairy lips.
"Not for you!" Loki repeated. He thanked the gods that someone was feeding Sylvie well. If she'd been adopted into wealth like he'd been, she'd eat much better every day.
Below the bags was a large cardboard box, haphazardly sealed by folding the top flaps around each other. He was about to open it and snoop around when Sylvie came out of the bedroom again. She'd changed into a simple, green crop top and white, comfy looking, high-waisted shorts, so short that they left almost nothing to the imagination. Even though the shorts started at the bellybutton, the crop top was so small that it still left several inches of midriff showing. He couldn't help but notice her nipples poking through her thin, tight cotton top, but made himself look away quickly. He was no better than the dog drooling over lamb chops.
She took the cart into the kitchen and started piling all the food into the fridge and cupboards, then took a big paper bag out of the narrow broom closet and poured the contents into Freddy's bowl. Freddy scarfed down the chunks of dry kibble as if they were just as tasty as the lamb he'd been crying for. For all Loki knew, maybe it tasted just as amazing to a dog.
Without Loki having to ask, Sylvie fixed a plate of food for him, giving him generous servings of peas, carrots, some white, lumpy stuff he assumed was potatoes, one of the pastries, and all of the meat with sauce drizzled over it.
"I already ate," she said as she put the plate in front of him. "I'm sure you're hungry."
Loki dug in, feeling relief wash over him as he devoured his meal almost as fast as Freddy. The shaky feeling from the adrenaline rush of fear he'd just experienced was at least partially caused by hunger, he realized.
"Your day wasn't too boring, I hope?" she asked, opening the big cardboard box full of mystery stuff and rummaging around in it a bit.
He spoke while chewing his delicious lamb. "I found ways to amuse myself." He chuckled mischievously and tore a bit of the pastry away. He remembered now what they were called-puddings-though it confused him, as American pudding was a sweet, sugary slop without any flour in it whatsoever. "There was this old woman-"
"Wait," she interrupted him, staring at him curiously. "Weren't you wearing a blue shirt this morning?"
He nodded and made an affirmative grunt through a mouthful of pudding. With a flick of his wrist, he made his clean white shirt disappear, revealing his original blue shirt and tie, complete with the rip and blood stains.
"Oh," she said, her face falling as if she was completely disappointed. "I didn't know you could do that."
"What's the matter?"
She sighed and brought out a couple of shirts from the box.
"I went to my parents' to get you some clothes to wear," she said, stuffing the shirts back inside. "You're built a lot like my grandpa was, tall and thin, so I thought you'd fit into his old clothes. I wasn't sure if you'd mind wearing a dead man's things, but they're clean." She started to close up the box again. "I suppose you don't need them," she muttered.
"Hold on a moment," he said, putting down his fork and placing his hand on her arm. "I can't wear a magical disguise forever. Don't go and toss them. I'll wear them, if they fit."
"You will?" she said, her voice a bit more hopeful.
He smiled at her and looked through the box of clothes. He'd lied to her, just a little. Loki could probably hold a disguise for years, if he really wanted to, but he didn't want Sylvie to feel like her generosity was in vain. Besides, it meant clothing was one less thing he had to worry about in order to fit in on Earth.
"The style is a bit-" she wrinkled her nose, "-old-fashioned, but they're not stained or ripped or anything. I had to make up a lie about why I wanted them. Told them a guy I work with lost his house in a fire and didn't have any clothes. They don't know about you yet, obviously."
As she talked, he put one shirt up to his chest to see if it might fit. It was a dark forest green, patterned with brown and red plaid and with large chest pockets. Another was a striped navy and white vest. There were several plain dress shirts in muted colors. He pulled out a brown pair of wool pants that looked way too big around the legs, and a well worn leather belt. Everything looked as if they would fit just fine, if not a bit baggy. If the clothes were old-fashioned, Loki couldn't tell. All Midgardian fashions looked vaguely hideous to him, in one way or another.
"Thank you, Sylvie," he said sincerely. "For the food and the clothes, and … everything."
She nodded with a warm grin, then looked away and started to bite at hangnail. Before he could ask her if something else was the matter, she perked up and spoke again.
"Oh! You were going to tell me something?"
"I met a horrible old woman today on Freddy's walk. She seemed to know you well."
"Did she have big, thick glasses that made her look like an owl?"
"Yes, that was her."
Sylvie folded her arms across her chest. "Marjorie Reid," she growled, baring her teeth as she said the name. "That stupid old cow. I hate her."
"Wonderful! Because I made her step in Freddy's poo."
Loki chuckled to himself, certain that she would be delighted, but Sylvie only stared at him in horror.
"What? Why did you do that?"
"Because she seemed to think she had some dirt on you, to make you look bad. Don't worry, she didn't know it was me who made her step in it. I did have some choice words for her, though."
Her expression didn't relax. In fact, she looked even more panicked than before.
"What dirt?"
Loki shook his head and rolled his eyes, finishing the rest of his peas and potatoes as he spoke.
"She said she'd seen you having relations with a woman. As if anyone cares."
Sylvie sucked in a breath and froze solid, looking like she was about to explode. Then, she swept Loki's finished plate and fork out from under his nose, went to the sink, and started to scrub it hard, as if it was covered in dried cement.
"Fucking bitch," she muttered to herself as the hot water scoured her hands. "Nosy whore. I bet she was a slag before her cunt dried out and shriveled up. I bet that's why she's doing this to me."
"Sylvie?" he asked.
Her face had gone bright red. She stopped scrubbing and turned off the water, staring at the single dish in the sink.
"She knows my mum, Loki," she said, wiping a tear away quickly. "They go to the same church. Fuck!"
She threw the sponge at the wall behind the sink, splattering soapy water everywhere before it fell back into the sink with a splat.
"My mum can't know already, because she would have brought it up by now," she said, one hand on her hip and the other on her head. She paced the room like a trapped tiger trying to find an exit. Freddy stared at her with his head tilted, which was about how Loki felt about the situation, too. "It's blackmail, then. She's waiting for the right moment to ruin my life."
Loki leaned back, crossed his legs, and shrugged. "I don't know if this Marjorie woman is that smart. For the life of me, I don't understand why it's such a big deal to some people. It's just sex."
"Well, maybe it's not a big deal on your world, but it is here." She sat back down on her chair and Freddy came up to her and put his chin on her knee. She looked slightly more at ease as she scratched his head, but her face was still flushed with anger.
"Don't tell me it's illegal for two women to be together?"
"It's not illegal, per se," she said with a sigh. "It's really not looked highly upon, though, in most circles. People get punished for it, legally or not."
"How?"
She gave him a helpless look and scoffed, throwing her hands up in the air. "All kinds of ways! If your family doesn't like the idea, then they can shun you, you lose friends, get harassed, if you're really unlucky you can lose your job, even. Like Becky." She said the last words quietly, almost a whisper.
"Who's Becky?"
Sylvie gave him a sad glance as she held her head in one hand, and he understood at once.
"Your partner. I see."
"I wouldn't call her a partner," she replied. "It was just a fling. I'm only telling you because you obviously don't care, but please don't-"
"If you need it to be a secret, then it's safe with me," he cut her off. "But I would like to hear this story."
She sighed deeply and stared at Freddy as she spoke, smoothing out his wiry, shaggy fur.
"So several months ago, I made friends with this woman at work. Becky. She was a little bit older than me. She'd started working at McDonald's because she'd quit her job at the post office."
Loki smiled to himself. "Your postman?"
"My postman? I don't think she delivered here."
He shook his head at his little inside joke. "Never mind. Go on."
"Anyway, we got to know each other. I … felt something when I looked at her. I wasn't even sure what it was. I just really wanted to be around her. I'd gotten those feelings for girls when I was in school, too, but they didn't come to anything. When I was young, I'd just feel sort of lost when I looked at a pretty girl. I'd follow them around like a puppy, then get embarrassed and run off. Feels a bit creepy, now that I'm older."
"Wait. Becky was your first?"
"Well … yes. Not like I don't know what sex is or anything, mind you," she scoffed. "I'm not a prude. I've been with men, too."
"And, how old are you?"
"Thirty eight."
Loki had to keep himself from gasping. Her life was nearly halfway over and she'd never even touched a woman before then.
"What was weird about Becky and I," she continued, "was that we really didn't even need to talk about it that much. We both just knew, you know?"
He nodded in reply. He knew that feeling, that look, as Marjorie had put it.
"I invited her to my flat, and we had a few drinks … well, one thing led to another … she wanted to sneak into the first floor garden and do it out there, and I was feeling randy, so I obliged."
Loki gave her the smallest smirk and she blushed. Her face went suddenly sour.
"What did Marjorie tell you?"
"She said she was tending the flowers, like a perfect angel, then heard some awful noises and took a quick peek over the fence to see you two going at it."
Sylvie groaned so loudly it scared Freddy, who backed his head away from her knee and gave her a tiny, muffled whine.
"Lying twat. We took a blanket and took care to hide ourselves from her side of the fence. And we were not loud, I guarantee that. She would have had to come around on the other side and spied on us."
Loki gave her a mischievous grin. "Maybe that kind of thing turns her on?"
Sylvie made a retching noise and leaned her head back in her chair, like he'd fed her caster oil, which made him laugh. Thankfully, it didn't offend her, as she laughed a little, too.
Her smile waned as she finished her story. "Becky and I went back to work, like nothing had happened. Of course we kept it a secret, but I think somehow our boss knew something was up. Maybe he just didn't like her, I don't know." Angry tears formed in her eyes, making them glisten. "He fired her over nothing. Said that she wasn't cleaning the bathrooms well enough, or doing things fast enough, just some absolute nonsense. She left about a month after we were together."
Loki shrugged. "I'm sure she's doing fine. You should have kept up with her. Written her a letter." He grinned, but she didn't.
"You don't seem to get it, Loki," she said, picking at her hangnail again. "That kind of thing happens all the time. You've got to be careful."
She put her head in both hands and pressed her palms against her eyes, like she was trying to blot something out of her brain.
"What is it?" he asked gently.
Sylvie took her hands away and wiped her nose with her hand, covering up her angry tears with a cough and an insincere smile.
"Oh nothing. I just got screamed at by my boss today for being late." Another cough turned into a laugh. "Ironically, he wasted thirty minutes yelling at me for being fifteen minutes late, so he wasted twice as much company time as I did."
"I could kill him for you," said Loki casually.
"What?!"
"I'm kidding, Sylvie!" His voice dropped for a moment. "Mostly. If any of these arrogant pricks knew who you really were … " he trailed off, having forgotten already that she wasn't a princess. This Sylvie didn't seem to be much of a fighter, either. The one he knew would have stabbed Marjorie and her boss without a second thought.
"What does that mean? 'Who I really am'?" She looked up at him, a mixture of amazement and fear on her face. He felt awful for accidentally leading her on, giving her some false hope, planting ideas in her head.
"I'm sorry. I misspoke," he muttered. "I was thinking of something else. But you know, dear, things weren't always like this for people like us."
"Us?"
"Bisexuals."
Sylvie paused for a moment and narrowed her eyes. "I always thought 'bisexual' meant someone who had … you know … man bits and lady bits at the same time?"
Loki had to keep himself from groaning out loud. He didn't know whether to feel annoyed or sorry for the poor woman. On the other hand, the English language seemed to be changing all the time. Perhaps that's what the word had meant in that particular year.
He let out a short sigh. "No. It means I enjoy a bit of both, just like you," he said patiently. "I've been to Earth several times over the past thousand years, for some … pleasure trips. I can tell you lots of Northern European tribes didn't care much. There was some crazy stuff going on in feudal Japan. And I've heard some stories about Greece," he said with a chortle. "It wasn't until the past few hundred years that humanity started getting anal about it. Pardon the pun."
"Did you come to Earth because Asgard doesn't like homosexuals?"
He burst out laughing, unable to help himself.
"Oh, you're funny! No, Asgard doesn't mind loving whoever you please, but I'm a prince, so my exploits would go around the planet as quickly as the sun. Not like I didn't lay with a few horny warriors there, either. I wish I could introduce you to some Valkyries."
"Like, warrior women who ride flying horses?" She seemed incredulous, but intrigued.
He nodded. "They're almost exclusively attracted to women. I think that's why many of them took the Valkyrie's vow in the first place." Loki stared at her, looking back at him with a bit of longing under her tired, drawn face. A tight ball of anger formed in his stomach, on her behalf. She didn't deserve this place. It didn't deserve her, either.
She looked behind her at the cans and boxes of food still out on the cabinet and blinked away more tears.
"My parents wouldn't understand," she whispered. "I don't think they'd talk to me anymore if they knew."
"Surely not, Sylvie."
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "You don't know my family. Especially my dad. It's his way or no way at all. He actually laughed at me when I told him I wanted to go to university." She imitated her father with a gruff voice and a sneer. "He said, 'You want to be one of those feminist bimbos, don't you, without a husband and a brassiere? Ain't a working man good enough for you?' And mum just stood behind him and nodded the whole time, as if she's not a hypocrite. She took a few classes before meeting my dad. She wanted to be a secretary."
"I could get you out of here," said Loki, on an impulse he couldn't control. He had the tempad still in his pocket. It was possible, though he had no idea if it would alert the TVA or not. It would be worth it to rescue her.
Common sense flicked his ear and told him he was being an idiot, but it was too late now. He'd offered. He barely knew this woman, this human, bound for a desperately short life which was almost half over, the second half destined for the pain and suffering of old age. It would be like adopting an old dog and expecting it to live as long as a puppy. He was setting himself up for heartache.
He leaned in across the table, but she backed away, folding her arms across her chest again.
"I can't just leave everything behind, Loki," she said, standing up and going to the counter to put the rest of the food away. "And besides, I don't know you that well. I know I brought you here, but that doesn't mean-"
"But this world is horrible!" he exclaimed.
"It's my world," she shot back defensively. "I was born here. My family's here. My life is here. I don't want to leave." She winced slightly at that, as if she was putting a dagger in her own heart. "You wouldn't understand. People work. It's what they do. You're born, you go to school, you work, have kids or don't, then you become a pensioner and die. There's no such thing as fairy tales, where Cinderella gets to go to the ball. And if you fall for that, then you deserve whatever you get."
"What do you mean?"
She put the last can away and sighed. "My mum thought my dad was Prince Charming. I can't understand why. He somehow swept her off her feet, though."
"Well, I'm not your dad," he scoffed.
"How the hell do I know you're not?" She whipped around to face him, brows furrowed in anger. "Do you know what happened to her? Dad married her, got her knocked up, then went off to war. She was living alone on the money he sent back. Some fucking prince."
"I'm sorry she had to raise you alone, but-"
"Oh, not me. Not yet. She was raising my older brother, Theo. The perfect, golden child." She rolled her eyes, oblivious to the look of horror growing on Loki's face as she spoke. "He grew into a big, blonde oaf. Star of the rugby team, had any girl he wanted, terrible marks in school. Could have gotten away with anything growing up. Joined Her Majesty's Armed Forces. He's dad's favorite, of course."
Loki felt his face growing numb and cold. His hands began to shake, the angry knot in his stomach turning into nausea. Surely it couldn't be-
"Mum and dad love to guilt me over how kind and loving they were for taking me in, a little orphaned German baby, all alone in the world." She affected a pious expression. Loki could barely hear her over the sound of his own heart beating in his eardrums.
Sylvie didn't notice, but Freddy did. He looked up at Loki very intently, very still, his head tilted a bit, just like he'd looked at Sylvie.
"They especially love to tell me how I'd been abandoned inside a church that had been blown to bits-"
At that, Loki stood up, his knees shaking, a loud ringing in his ears.
"I don't feel … "
Before he could finish the sentence, the world around him started to spin uncontrollably. His knees buckled and he fell to the linoleum floor, face first. The last things he heard before he blacked out were Freddy's manic barking and Sylvie's horrified shriek.