"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Loki looked back and forth between Mobius and the woman sitting in what he thought was his seat.
"Loki, this is Sylvie. My niece. Syl, this is Loki. Remember that rich guy I told you about from college? Odin? This is one of his sons." Mobius smiled as he gestured back and forth between the two in introduction before focusing on Sylvie. "Loki's dad asked us to meet up every couple weeks to talk about stuff Loki doesn't want to talk about. And since you have stuff you don't want to talk about, I thought maybe you two could hang out and not talk about anything together while I go fill in at the tutoring center because they're short-staffed this morning." Mobius stood up and offered his chair to Loki.
"Hang on," Loki said with an open hand in the air, trying to make sense of what was happening. "You're pawning me off on someone else? That wasn't part of the deal."
Mobius grabbed Loki's hand and shook it, leaning in to whisper, "Look, I won't tell your dad if you won't. It's probably just for today. I didn't want to cancel on you. Plus, I wanted to get Sylvie out of the apartment. It's really a win-win for all of us."
"But—"
"See ya in a couple weeks, Loki. See you later Syl." Mobius waved to the pair of confused people he was leaving behind.
"This is not a date," Sylvie mumbled as she poured some sugar into her tea.
"I beg your pardon?" Loki asked, still standing next to the table. "Why would I even think it was? I don't even know who you are."
"Were you not paying attention? I'm the niece." Sylvie looked up at the man practically lurking over her. He was tall and lanky, dressed in a crisp black suit with a black dress shirt. No tie. Very odd for 9am on a Saturday. Quite formal. Though she did like how his dark wavy hair loosely fell to just above his shoulders. He came off as quite uptight and seemed like someone who would have a preppy haircut and yet he very much did not. "Are you an undertaker?"
"What? No," Loki replied defensively. "Are you homeless?"
Sylvie looked down at the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt she was wearing and knew her dyed blonde hair hadn't been washed or brushed in a couple days. Mobius hadn't told her where they were going, only that he wanted to treat her to breakfast before he had to be on his way. She didn't realize just how disheveled she looked until just then. Her situation wasn't funny, but she couldn't help but scoff out a small chuckle. "Ha. I guess I kind of am? But I'm staying with my uncle for a bit, so perhaps maybe not? Would you please sit down or maybe just leave? I don't like you standing over me, but I'm not getting up."
Loki's eyebrows slid up as he slowly sat in the seat Mobius previously occupied. "Are you from London?"
"Yes. You?"
"No, I was born here." Loki stopped himself, realizing he didn't know exactly where he was born. He assumed NYC, but wasn't quite sure anymore. "My parents…um." He shook his head, not wanting to get into it with someone he didn't even know. But Odin and Frigga were legally his parents, so he continued. "My parents are from London."
"Oh," Sylvie said. "Okay. Well, look… I'm going to finish my tea and then leave. You can stay. You can go. I don't care. But if you stay, can we do what Mobius said and not talk about anything? Because I really don't feel like making small talk with a total stranger, no offense."
It was odd how much he enjoyed her frankness, though his face did not register even an iota of pleasure. "None taken. I don't particularly want to talk to you either." He gave a curt nod before standing. "I'll leave. Goodbye."
Loki didn't even wait for a response, he just walked purposefully toward the door and didn't look back.
Sylvie watched him, though, out of curiosity. He might have been the oddest person she was ever forced to meet.
"So, what the hell was that?" Sylvie asked her uncle as soon as he got back to his apartment that afternoon.
"Glad to see you're still up and at 'em," Mobius said as he dropped his keys into the bowl.
Sylvie flung a piece of popcorn at her uncle from the couch, but it didn't even come close to reaching him. "Answer the question."
Mobius kicked off his shoes and sat next to Sylvie. "That was me trying to help two people who I know I can't help."
"Explain," Sylvie demanded, offering her uncle her bowl of popcorn.
He grabbed a few pieces and shoved them all in his mouth at once. "Well, you're going through some stuff, right?" He waited until Sylvie nodded before continuing. "And Loki… well, he's going through some stuff too." Sylvie looked at her uncle quizzically. "That's not for me to say. Just like it's none of my business telling Loki about any of your stuff. Not that I really know any of your stuff because you're keeping that pretty close to the vest. But I respect that."
"So you're trying to make me tell him my stuff and him tell me his stuff? Like that'll solve all our problems, just like that?"
Mobius put both his hands up in the surrender position. "I'm not trying to make anybody do anything. I just thought maybe you both could use a new friend. You know, someone with a clean slate."
"You just said that he's going through stuff. That doesn't sound like a clean slate—that sounds like baggage."
"Now, imagine me having this same conversation with him. How would that make you feel?"
Sylvie slouched into the back of the couch. "You can't force people to be friends. We're not children."
Mobius laughed. "You sound just like him."
Sylvie threw another piece of popcorn at her uncle, this time hitting him square on his crooked nose.
