03 Retrospect

To say this Loki Laufeyson was a contradiction would be an understatement.

Hazel had attempted to prepare herself for a moment like this, especially given the dire straights they were in. Mobius had even somehow wrangled her clearance to a number of classified info files, driving home just how serious this case was. Granted these types of documents were clinical at best; they tended to note only what was significant to the Sacred Timeline. The amount of paperwork detailing every single aspect of one individual was locked, and given the size of such things it wasn't surprising they were Archive only. Losing or misplacing data like that, oh, she didn't envy the consequences.

However, there really was only so much one could learn about a person on paper alone. And for someone who had been granted such a unique lifetime as Loki that statement had never been truer. Studying the oddly short stack only proved a repetition; the same warnings glared back at her searching eyes again and again.

Clever. Mischievous. Intelligent. Deceptive. Dangerous. Unpredictable—

Threat level: Medium . May require pruning on sight—

WARNING: Do not allow contact with any and all Variants of The Hulk—

The bare descriptions had caused her brow to scrunch, shuffling the files for anything else. At the time it had seemed straightforward enough. Yet having the subject in question before her certainly threw some wrenches into the flat words inked boldly on aged paper.

what in the name of the Keeper's is a Hulk, anyway?

In truth Hazel didn't know what to expect. A Variant from a Prime, someone pulled directly after a significant event in their predetermined timeline, was honestly rare. The P.A. didn't envy any of them, especially given the processing these Variants were put through. She lacked the clearance to know everything that happened, but in a place like the TVA assumptions ran wild and free—while still holding whispers of truth, hidden from the ears of those who forbid them.

Loki was something of a legend in these parts, similarly to how the Sacred Timeline dictated him to be. Yet such things only lead to speculation and furious whispers behind supposedly closed doors. When finally faced with the flesh and blood person everyone had such varying opinions on, despite how she attempted to steel herself, Hazel could have never predicted how this God of Mischief would react.

Him, the terror of the TVA, had been kind to her.

Of all the notes she'd glanced over about how this Loki at his current time point could be, not one of them mentioned a possibility of compassion. Not that it was an unwelcome thing, Keeper's no—it was, by all means, a relief. Yet at the back of her mind rang that budding curiosity; just how close to the warnings was this Variant? She swallowed thickly and glanced upward, their brief exchange taking her off guard.

Loki, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief and Terror of Midgard, had the ability to honestly smile.

And he smiled right at me

Questions churned within her, begging so hard to let loose. He hadn't needed to do that; she had no power here to influence. If anyone was to be focused on it should be Mobius yet the god had offered little to the agent, looking more irritated by him than anything. The fact he was allowing them to guide his way through the facility without resistance was strange enough. For someone who was supposedly irrational and prone to lashing out, this Loki was certainly showing a depth no file could convey. The unorthodox behavior likely was setting her boss on edge, but—

What if the paperwork is…wrong?

It was difficult to fight back a flinch at the thought. Their files couldn't be inaccurate; the TVA knew everything about everyone. At least, everyone on the Sacred Timeline. That was the way of it—the point of it, defining the very work she was dedicated to. The Loki before her was the same in the documents, at least until the moment he was brought here. Her thoughts stuttered a moment, both from this new rebellious whisper and the dark-haired man before her.

What happens when a Variant is allowed to just… be, outside of the Sacred Timeline? Away from their charted course? Who…who are they? Who can they be?

Loki didn't have to acknowledge them whatsoever, yet this one did. He didn't need to comply at all. Whatever the reason he had, and Hazel couldn't help but keep wondering why . Was it some grand plan in the making? Some desperate scheme he somehow thought might work? But then why—

Why is he being nice to me?!

It was so weird that her head swam with questions, being pulled back only by the ding of the elevator doors. The scrape of her shoes cut through the blanking thoughts, near twisting herself out into the hall. It had been a long while since her heart raced like this; between the kind words falling from a deep accent, to the conflicted questions bubbling up so harsh within, Hazel was certain something in her may just snap.

He complimented me?! How do I even respond to that

Social interaction at the TVA was limited, to say the least. You were given a role to fulfill and spent your waking hours dedicated to said tasks. There was a hierarchy to be respected and upheld; that was the way of it. And people like her—the right hands, the gophers, the glorified errand fulfillers—weren't anywhere near the elite. If anything, they were the bottom rung; the support system as Mobius had once defined it. The ones to be only seen and heard when necessary. Superior shadows he'd called them, grinning through the attempted comfort and clapping her shoulder.

"I'm the tuna and you're the melt, kiddo. Can't have one without the other, y'know? You're part of the grand ol' process. Be proud of that."

To say that was the kindest reception of her position would be an understatement. Calling assistants shadows was generous at best. Hazel knew the universe itself would freeze over before most of her fellow employees would even spare her an informal greeting. To expect anything else out of a Variant, especially this one, would be laughable.

Yet the softness entering those distant blue eyes looked so real. And the tone of his voice was…so unexpectedly kind. Maybe it was part of some scheme; the warnings had been clear. Yet to see the way he looked, here and now, that sadness trailing behind whatever masks he shifted about—

What happens when a Variant is allowed to just… be, inside these timeless walls?

The thoughts were abruptly shoved back as they moved forward. Reality set in beneath the harsh ceiling lights in the sparse hallway, each step bringing them closer to the end of this. It's not like they'd have the chance to explore such theories; even if it were somehow permitted, she doubted the subject in question would willingly comply. Loki couldn't even bring himself to accept the TVAs truths, why would he ever consider anything beyond that? And what, because some little P.A. was courteous to him? Please, Hazel, really—

The self proclaimed God of Mischief had been through a lot; she didn't need briefings or documents to see that. The injuries dotting his face and hands spoke well enough of a struggle, let alone that ever-shifting look in his distant eyes. Whatever this Variant thought he'd known about the universe was being turned inside out and she couldn't begin to imagine how that felt. Losing so much in such a short time, even for someone like Loki, had to be indescribably hard. More so than anything she could fathom. Honestly, she didn't blame the heresy falling from those bruised lips.

"The idea that your little club decides the fate of trillions of people across all of existence at the behest of three space lizards? Yes, it's funny. It's absurd."

Unlike Mobius, the auburn-haired woman couldn't bring herself to dissuade the mocking laughter rising from the Variant. The world around him had shifted so quickly that he'd earned such a thing, not that anyone here would ever dare say so. Loki couldn't have reverence for what he didn't understand, and seeing that slow panic needling it's way back across his features was allowance enough. Being faced with the large Time Theater doors was intimidating when you weren't being dragged inside them, let alone in his position.

The wall against her back provided a brief reprieve. It wouldn't be long before the expected dismissal would rise from Mobius; there was no point to assistants taking part in interviews. Her boss was more than capable of handling whatever happened behind those doors. Part of her felt gentle stings of disappointment, eyes glancing between the men in a quick dart. A note of anxiety managed to weasel it's way up as the entry swung wide, gaze locking on the irritated Variant behind them.

For whatever reason his eyes lingered again, boring down against hers like a tidal wave. Everything around her stopped; thoughts churning wildly, questions banging desperately behind clenched teeth. That aggravated mask had slipped into something quieter, as if he were searching her for anything else but what was happening now.

He's doing it again

And the moment those conflicted blues locked with her namesakes something rose within, slipping unbidden up her throat and across the quiet space between them. A pin dropping against the hard floor that whispered along the bare walls like an oath.

"It's okay. Really. It'll be okay."

Hazel wasn't sure where that came from. Part of her felt beyond embarrassed; she hadn't been party to their conversation to begin with. The fact he'd unintentionally dragged her into it wasn't even to blame. No, this was something else, a part of her that felt foreign and strange twisting across her chest and off her tongue.

He just looked so genuinely lost. There was a need burning behind those eyes that she couldn't quite define, yet was unable to ignore. Regret boiled harshly in her stomach the moment it slipped, cheeks increasingly rivaling the shade of her hair. Why would any reassurances from her matter to someone like him? Especially in this place?

There's no friends to make here, Hazel. This is serious. Stop letting your emotions get the best of you, like always. Just stop—

"Thank you."

The soft reply shattered Hazel's storming thoughts. Her head snapped up at the unexpected timbre, eyes widening as he passed by. It had fallen so quietly that it barely kissed her ears; had she not seen his lips move, it could well have been imagined. That unexpected trait he didn't need to convey slipped across her like a receding tide. And once again the P.A. was at a loss, staring after him with the widest and most confused of gazes.

The fact her boss was watching them closely didn't help and Hazel couldn't bring herself to look at him. This was baffling enough, she didn't need any further kindling for the embarrassment slowly rising within.

Yet a flash of intrigue overtaking Mobius' features went unnoticed by all, looking between the Variant and his assistant in silent calculation. The baton in his grip shifted as the agent glanced across the theater, stepping towards it with firm decision.

Why did it feel like her insides wanted to completely wrap around themselves?! The odd fluttering rising from Hazel's middle wasn't helping either. It felt like she was stalling out, arms near dropping the paperwork that'd been clutched like a protective vice. Everything in her suddenly wanted to follow after the Variant, to see and know exactly what would happen, to be there—

What is wrong with you—we need a Loki's help, this is too important—you're a professional, act like it—

To know that what she just told him wasn't a kind lie. Even if his just may be in return. She…she had to know—that no matter what waited in that room it wouldn't cause those eyes to ache more. No other information had mattered as much as this, in this moment, right now. Nothing had ever affected her so sharply as what would happen to this Variant that she'd only met not even an hour before. Talk about absurdities. She didn't know why, but—

Whatever this was, whatever this meant—when those lost eyes held her own so easily—when he kept seeing her—

She had to know—

…what happens when a Variant can just… be?

"Hazel, you're up."

Mobius' voice proved to break through her conflicted reverie. The roll of shock at his command immediately caught her, eyes blowing wide. Even the Minuteman couldn't help but give a confused glance back at the agent, face scrunched at the unusual order. Her boss somehow maintained a straight face through it all, yet offered a raised brow and shrugging hands—as if this were an everyday thing. As if he wasn't dragging an unauthorized worker into a confidential questioning.

What is he thinking?! Madame Ravonna will lose it—

Yet that disarming ocean gaze found its way back to her frazzled one. Loki had glanced between all of them with a note of curiosity, finally landing on her with a questioning stare. Well, she had just been hoping for this; perhaps the Time Keeper's wouldn't be too irritated with her. It was just an interview, right? That's how Mobius always described them, anyway. And if her boss actually wanted his assistant present, Hazel had no grounds to argue against her own job.

Her raging curiosities crying out in triumph could tone it down a tad, though.

"O-of course! Sorry Boss, l-lost in thought." It managed to fall halfway convincingly. If there was a smirk on the raven-haired man's face, she aptly ignored it. Loki stepped aside as she hurried past, a short nod passing between them in the motion. A wince crossed her features as the telltale click of her heels rang out in the silent theater, bouncing noisily before she settled at the waiting table. It was far easier to busy herself with the holoprojector, silently willing her heart rate to take it down a bit—

At least until that accented voice echoed harshly across the wide room, his sudden change in tone cutting through the distraction.

"For the record," Loki hadn't moved from the closed doors, staring down at the workers with a hardening look. The reality of it all was settling in again, his posture growing ever tenser. Mobius had once described what a lion was to his assistant and how such a powerful creature was sometimes caged. She imagined that it looked similar to the Variant's current features; realizing the only way out was how they came, and not liking it one bit. "This really does feel like a killing me kind of a room."

Hazel found that she couldn't argue it; frankly she viewed these theaters as particularly tiresome. They only had two uses: Variant questioning and employee seminars. The latter proved to be horrifically boring and the former was yet a mystery. However, this was not the Verdict Chamber and that at least was one solid reassurance against his fears.

It helped ease the sudden rolling of her stomach at the thought of watching this Variant pruned, especially in here. That was something Hazel absolutely did not want to face today, even if she couldn't voice such things. Even Mobius would chastise her for doubting the system that kept the cosmos in proper order, current mission requirements or not.

But the thought of this Loki fading away caused that weird twisting to pass through her, forcing the woman to turn and collect herself.

It was easy to slip into office mode and tune out the men behind her. It was rare that Recall Strips were taken from the Archive, especially for someone of Loki's status. Her fingers brushed against the film reel as she centered herself, shoving down the storm within and begging herself to put a pin in it.

This wasn't the time or place to fall apart! There was too much riding on getting this Loki to help them. No matter what, they needed him for this case. Too many people were dying. Too much was at stake. She pushed it all down and fixed herself, straightening in the chair and turning back towards them—

Only to leap directly out of it, the hard plastic bouncing across the polished floor below.

It happened faster than Hazel could register. Everyone moved out of pure instinct, the sudden chaos taking a moment to recover from. Apparently the Variant had reached a breaking point, and luckily her boss had been more than prepared for it. Watching the god rush across the room only to be Twisted back into his starting position brought an unrestrained wince out of the assistant. That never looked pleasant, especially now.

"We told you, time moves differently in the TVA. Come on, sit down."

Whatever Loki's plan had been, it certainly hadn't accounted the Time Collar or Mobius' training. Part of her knew she should be alarmed; the first sign of all those warnings finally displayed, undeniably so. Yet the utter desperation tugging at his features prodded at that quelling storm in her chest, bringing it back to a swelling wave that threatened to overtake her yet again.

"Mr. Laufeyson?"

It broke quietly between the three, carrying far more calmly than she expected. The irritation that'd taken over his features turned on her, the questioning look in that raging gaze passing between. Even Mobius glanced her way at the interruption with a pointedly raised brow. She took the hint and remained frozen in place, yet refused to break that shared look with the angered prince.

Hazel was an assistant, and for Keeper's sake, she was going to help this process in any way she could. And right now the part of her that raged with a thousand curiosities flowed out her tongue, offering Loki the same courtesy he'd granted her just minutes before.

"I know this has been a very, very long day. You have no reason to trust us. We aren't asking for that." The quiet tone carried easily to the offended god, her palms rising open and upward toward him. "This is honestly just a room to talk in. And that's all we're looking to do. We have questions, and we really hope you have answers. That's all. So please," She gestured towards the opposite chair, waiting and ready for its needed occupant. " Please, will you join us? Just for a while?"

A beat of silence filled the room with a rising tension. Hazel wasn't used to speaking directly to subjects like this; that was her boss' position, after all. Yet Mobius had never discouraged her from participating in his cases and given he'd broken protocol to bring her in here, she figured there had to be a reason. And despite the very odd cataclysm brewing within herself she couldn't just sit here in complete silence, as if that unfeeling wall was still at her back and the doors between them firmly shut.

If the needling thoughts that this Variant just might actually hear her spurned the words, and the flash of his smile crossed her memory, she refused to pay it mind. Not now .

Relief bled through her as Loki finally moved with slow and cautious steps. The irritation across his features didn't waver as he settled, looking more than uncomfortable in the small chair. The assistant found her breaths coming evenly again as they all shifted. In a quiet movement she righted her fallen seat, eyes drifting back towards the dark-haired man as she took her place.

He'd been observing them both with a steeled gaze. Yet something tugged at his features when they glanced over Hazel; a form of silent acknowledgement, a flash of softness before sliding back. It caused that odd feeling to pass through her before she could stop it, managing to clear her throat and smooth out her clothes as a distraction.

"Let's get into this."

Letting Mobius take the reigns was a welcome shift. There was a plan and purpose in the agents' words as the men conversed, allowing Hazel a few moments of quiet observation. The two entered into their own world of bouncing questions and prodding inquiries, leaving her to simply listen and wait. Yet the more they went on the tenser the atmosphere grew, hand absently grasping at her skirt with rising anxiety.

"We need a Loki to help us on this, and we're gonna get one. I think I know how to get through to him if we just get the chance. You'll see, Hazel, we will."

Mobius had looked so determined back then that she couldn't find any reason to dissuade him. And now that the reality of it was sitting cross-armed and fuming before them she couldn't help but wonder how. Just what was the boss' plan? And would this particular Variant, the one holding himself so tightly yet was able to smile so softly—would he really prove it? Could he?

Could this Variant…really just

"You want to be king?"

The inquiry broke through that train of thought, yanking her attention back to the present. Hazel recalled the detail from the god's file; it was the fate of all Loki's to grasp at. Yet the ideas of ruling classes above people on the Sacred Timeline was a foreign concept to her. Mobius had tried explaining kings and queens, politicians and world leaders, but it all seemed so confusing in the end. When your whole life was sacredly granted by the maintainers of the cosmos everything else paled in comparison.

Yet it was beyond obvious that for Loki, this concept meant everything. Behind that simmering fury was a determination the assistant had rarely seen. Every word fell from him like a solid oath, that firm and unshakable belief that what he believed was his rang true. Every counter Mobius made was soundly met, the conviction carrying across the table and wrapping about her like a vice.

"I would have made it easy for them."

The admission brought a wave of confusion, ebbing across the conversation in one sweep. It caused her to slowly straighten in the hard chair, gaze trained on the Variant's steady blues. There were countless speculations on what motivated this fallen prince, yet never once had anyone managed to actually gain an explanation from the source. That they'd even made it this far was remarkable in itself. Yet what fell from him next proved to floor her, breath catching in her throat once more.

"The first and most oppressive lie ever uttered was the song of freedom. For nearly every living thing, choice breeds shame and uncertainty and regret. There's a fork in every road, yet the wrong path always taken."

Had she heard him right? There was no mad grab for power, no declarations of violent takeovers or burning the universe to the ground. Not a word uttered in regards to destruction—but the prevention of it?

The raven-haired man before her had just admitted a desire to help others, above all else. However unorthodox the methods, that was his ultimate goal? That was what he wanted to accomplish?

The room seemed to shift around them as the truth of it settled within her. The way he'd looked before as they traversed the halls; the quiet tone he'd passed over her, without necessity. That raging conflict that possessed him even now, even as he sat under all this scrutiny and held himself well as possible. Every descriptor the files had listed over and over conflicted against each moment this Loki was with them. Especially that bud of kindness that laid hidden under those fierce eyes and escaping off his tongue, yet tainted by the situation he was currently stuck in.

But it was still there . And that was something Hazel could not, would not ignore.

"What do you think drives a Loki? Yeah, I know, you've read all about it, kiddo. But when you meet someone it's different. You never quite know. Maybe someday we will. I think that's an adventure just waiting to happen. And what a ride it'll be!"

Oh, Mobius, how are you always right?!

Even as the interview continued Hazel couldn't get it out of her head. The rare novelty of the Recall Strips was barely a distraction; it was nothing the files hadn't told her. Whether he wanted to accept it or not Loki's actions had been guided by the Time Keeper's. Every violent inclination, from minor choices to attacking somewhere called New York, was not only permitted but purposed. Nothing happened on the Sacred Timeline that wasn't meant to. Everyone had a part to play, whatever their role was, and it all mattered. It was all worth protecting and preserving no matter what.

No, it wasn't the projections that caught Hazel in this moment. Being across from the subject in question was more than enough. The Variant could barely look at the memories being flashed before him. The way his eyes went anywhere but at the images or the workers spoke volumes. How harshly the words snapped from him as Mobius continued on, how the tension was rising to a breaking point—

And how Loki was practically refusing to look at her, no matter what.

Hazel had spent the majority of her life sitting back with locked lips and a bowed head. When you lived in the background of your society it afforded a few unusual traits. For one, having to be neither seen nor heard unless required to meant a lot of time simply observing. There was a lot one could tell about others through such means. And while assumptions were a wild thing to run with, in regards to this particular Variant, she was sure an exception could be made.

Does he… regret all that?

It wasn't yet clear what Mobius intended by his questions; it seemed counterproductive to their overall goal. Agitating their possible last hope certainly wasn't the route she'd had taken. But it was obvious that something in Loki was shifting, the utter reluctance to fully face what was being tossed at him beyond apparent.

Is he…is he ashamed? Is that possible—

"Do you enjoy hurting people?"

That question brought everything within her to a halt. If Loki had been conflicted before, the new level of it betraying his features was beyond telling. He'd finally locked onto the Recalls with a burning glare that proved to ice over. The shuffling of emotions was enough to tighten her throat, a slight tremble along his shoulders sealing it all.

His reactions were raw and visceral and so real that it proved to strike a pain in her chest, forcing her to look away.

Enjoyment is the last word I'd use for him—

That small, rational part remaining of her professional self tugged at the back of her mind. It was possible that this whole thing was a façade. An act put on by a universally renowned prankster that would do anything to escape this place. Loki had many descriptors yet honesty had never once joined the list. No matter their efforts he could genuinely be putting on a grand performance as part of some overall scheme to benefit himself. She wasn't ignorant to such an idea.

Yet that much louder voice that'd wakened the moment he saw her in the courtroom, and every incident after, was proving to drown those concerns.

"I know who I am!"

Maybe it was irrational to hope for. Yet this man, this fallen prince of a faraway land, this self proclaimed God of Mischief—how long had he lived behind such titles? How many faces was he forced to wear for the sake of the Sacred Timeline? Why did he feel the need to hide that smile, that gentility that needn't have fallen in the first place?

Who could he be…if he had a choice?

And why, even after all this, did he look so very lost and alone?

"Mr. Laufeyson?" It fell before she could stop it, gaining her two very incredulous stares. The men had obviously gotten so caught up they'd forgotten she was even here; Hazel swallowed down a pang at that before finding her courage again. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong—but from what I understand…you want to be in a position above all people to help all people? Is that correct?"

The absolutely blank look she received wasn't exactly comforting. Hazel didn't even bother glancing over at her boss; however he'd look would certainly break her nerve. This Variant was vital and harming their chances wasn't ever her intention. Yet the fact that everything in her just had to speak to him, here in this moment, couldn't be ignored. No matter what.

Please, just don't look like that anymore. Just for a moment—

When Loki didn't offer a reply she decided to continue. That icy gaze seemed to cautiously melt at her tone, yet his tight posture clearly stated his frustration. "That's an understandable motivation. B-but I think what Mobius means is, that the methods aren't exactly helping accomplish the goals? And they seem—well, honestly—"

Hazel didn't mean for it to slip out. It was always the one issue she had; the main reason she suspected her boss rarely had her meet Variants in the first place. When emotions ran high and assumptions even higher, she couldn't help it. It was difficult not to project on someone else in the first place, let alone when you recognize the looks on their faces—flashing in their eyes, echoing through their postures. Especially when you've actually read about their lives, wanting to reach beyond the bullet points and see more.

"—they seem…kind of lonely, too."

Whether it be a universe full of people or the endless faces at the TVA, standing apart from the rest was isolating. Being misheard or ignored was agonizing. And being misunderstood or rejected was…so very, very lonely.

Just like that look in his eyes.

Yet whatever relation Hazel was attempting to convey was lost in translation. The Variant settled her with a positively raging glare, acid pouring harshly from his tongue. "And what would you know," He bit in a low growl, a pure blizzard spreading between them. "Of accomplishments and loneliness ?"

"That's your problem, little P.A. You never know your place. Keep this up and see how far it gets you."

It would've been easier had Loki simply reached across and slapped her. At least that would warrant the reaction overtaking Hazel; would explain the harsh burn quickly spreading low in her gut. The far-off memory of that Hunter she preferred to forget, the sting of every failure and each time Mobius bailed her out—Hazel refused to mess this one up, not today, not with him—

"Nothing."

She hadn't meant it to fall in such a way. The word was a bare whisper amidst the room's silent walls. Hazel found herself unable to meet either man's gaze, head falling back into a bowed position. The familiar curtain of auburn waves provided little comfort. Whatever drive had built up within her hurriedly deflated, fingers gripping so tightly against her skirt they turned white.

"Nothing at all. I'm sorry for interrupting Boss, it won't happen again."

I shouldn't be in here. I'm going to mess this up, again. All because of my stupid thoughts and feelings. Why can't you just get it together already—

Had the assistant managed to raise her head, she would've been greeted with an unexpected sight. The god's stern visage fell the moment her broken tone carried between them. There was a softened note painting his storming eyes; a conflict twisting over her bowed head. One hand even shifted, unbidden, moving from his elbow to stretch towards her in near reflex. Yet the moment she spoke directly to the agent, gaze refusing to meet either of the observing men, Loki had settled back into the look of an unshakeable being. If a thick swallow trembled at his throat, he absolutely refused to acknowledge it.

Nor was Hazel aware of the utter warning that glared harshly from her superior. To his credit Mobius was an all-around great boss; she certainly had no complaints, considering how he could treat an assistant. Yet one thing could definitely be said of the older man: he was fiercely defensive of those close to him. And given the rarities of such connections in the TVA, it made the agent even more proactive on that front. Sometimes to an aggravating degree. Mother hen was an understatement, and he took well advantage of Hazel's current distraction.

Fixing the god with a death stare she'd never see, Mobius gripped her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "You're fine, Hazel. Keep up your good work and butt in all you want. But you," The agents free hand rose, pointing firmly at the slouching prince. Loki's mask resumed the moment the worker addressed him, returning that harsh glare with an equally rivaling one.

"You enjoyed all of that, didn't you? And this here, with Hazel even! Do you like hurting the people around you? Making them feel little and insignificant? Get some kind of kick out of it? Do you?"

The dramatic shift of his tone was enough to ground her, dragging the assistant out of her momentary reverie. It was a very rare day when Mobius sounded like that. Not many had been on the receiving end of his wrath, and hearing it now certainly pulled her back to the issue at hand. Her eyes darted between the two with tensing shoulders; whatever point the agent was trying to make with Loki was starting to be lost on her. Why was he attacking the Variant they needed like this? What in Keeper's names was he doing—

"I don't have to play this game. I'm a god."

It took a moment to find her courage again, managing to glance across the table at the raven-haired man. The fact he was pointedly looking anywhere but her way wasn't subtle, neither was the sinking feeling in her chest. Yet the longer Hazel braved to study his features the more her thoughts churned, hands shifting anxiously against the tweed fabric beneath.

That soft note of regret was tugging at his features again, a bare echo shifting across the room before slipping away. Everything rushed over her in that one moment; the questions, the emotions, everything in between that this Variant had caused. And she couldn't help but wonder—

Hazel honestly didn't know what being a god fully implied. It was obviously something of a very high rank, and so complex that even Mobius couldn't help her come to a complete and concise definition. Gods were higher on the ladder than royalty or other leaders, and could either be feared or worshipped. But she couldn't help wondering if that was just another barrier he'd lived with, another wall tossed between himself and the people he so desperately wanted to reach in this universe.

Just like everything else he'd done, and been, for the sake of the Sacred Timeline—knowingly or otherwise.

But…what if he didn't… have to? Who…who is he, beyond all that? Who…would he want to be?

Even as the men went on, she couldn't help but think, those rebellious, blasphemous whispers rising to an overwhelming shout—

Would he…ever want to know, too?