Loki doesn't need directions to get Matt to his apartment, and in other circumstances that might be worrisome. Right now, though, Murdock's just satisfied to be with his silk sheets and have more of his blood on the inside than outside. The sheets are still in the other room, though, because Matt is sitting on his sofa with a bowl of stew and someone claiming to be a Norse god.

They sit in the nowhere-near-darkness of the electronic billboard's glow, and Matt tilts his head, weighing the question before he asks it. It might sound insane, but, well, Norse god in the living room, puts a little perspective on the matter of crazy. "Are your eyes green?"

"Usually, yes."

Right. That's informative. But the stew is fantastic.

"Did you see them?" Loki asks.

"Uh. Well. Not so much." Except that he did. It shouldn't be possible, but he kind of did see them. Kind of.

Loki tips his head back and considers. Nods. Keeps whatever conclusion he's drawn to himself. "You take no sides in this 'Civil War' so recklessly being waged. Have you not been sought? A man of your talents might be useful in such a struggle."

Matt shrugs. "It's not really my area." He's pretty sure they know about him. He's pretty glad they don't care.

"Yes," Loki says. He doesn't elaborate.

"You didn't sound too impressed with them."

"No."

"Personal experience? I mean, if you're the Loki of myth and legend," Matt can't help but say "myth and legend" a little too dramatically, and he can tell "Loki" doesn't approve, but he continues, "then you're in the same pantheon as Thor, right? If he's the real deal, too, anyway."

"We know each other, yes."

And oh, wow, but Matt can hear a craftily concealed emotional time bomb under that response. He knows he should back away from this subject. Slowly and with great caution. Then again, Loki obviously didn't want Matt to be able to tell there was anything wrong there, so maybe it would be best to pretend not to notice. It's not the first time being a human lie detector has been awkward, but it might be the first time it could get him killed.

He concentrates on the stew and feigns disinterest. It's not that hard, really. Since that drink wore off, he's tired and hungry and about a pint low. There's crime on his streets and Loki's grand speech about death and corpses is not something Matt's forgetting anytime soon. He's never liked politics, and getting involved in the maneuverings of superpowered space gods seems like an especially bad idea. It's not even the sort of bad idea he's normally inclined toward, unlike, say, running across rooftops in a costume to fight thugs or antagonizing multiple groups of organized crime. At the same time.

"What you said back there, does that have anything to do with why you're - doing whatever it is you're doing with me?"

"What do you think I am doing with you?"

"Besides," he waves his hand in the general direction of his own definitely not bleeding neck, "this? You're keeping track of me. And you put me on notice. At the coffee shop. You wanted to make contact, see how I would react, let me know that you know. About me."

There's no verbal response from Loki, but there's a reason why silence is considered assent in law.

"Is this - when you - back there, you were talking about larger forces and Titans and Death," and Matt's still a little creeped out by being able to hear Loki's capitalization of Death. It reverberates in his skull in a way that isn't at all related to getting knocked around earlier. "It sounds… big."

Loki's still not speaking, but Matt knows he's listening very carefully. He can feel the weight of green eyes on him. He can feel the expectant energy under the deceptive languor of Loki's sprawled pose.

"I'm not a soldier or a superhero. I don't have money and technology. I'm not a spy. I'm a lawyer. A blind lawyer who gets into fights and gets his neck sliced open. I doubt I can do anything you can't, if you are who you say you are. So tell me, Loki," and wow, saying that name out loud makes this evening's surreality come into focus. Matt has to pause and remind himself of everything he knows about this not-man to even begin to consider that any of this could be true.

He takes a breath and begins again. "Loki, what is it you think I can do for you?"

"We shall see, I suspect," is the affable answer. He straightens himself, leaning forward and speaking quietly so Matt feels the need to lean in, as well. The humor has left Loki's voice. "A man who senses beyond sight, who is not fooled by his eyes - such a man might prove useful. And if this man is not blinded by obedience or loyalty to a narrow cause, but knows the darkness for what it is and is willing to meet it on its own terms; will act when it is necessary to protect his people - that man will, perhaps, not be distracted by petty earthly interests when the time comes to act."

Loki leans back and readopts his calculatedly casual air. "And in return, I may be able to offer certain… incentives. Perhaps even aid, of a sort."

"Aid. Incentives. What exactly are you talking about? And what are you trying to get me into?"

"You have loved ones, yes? People you care about and would not have harmed?" Matt isn't tired anymore. His exhaustion takes a back seat to the intense focus required to wipe every reaction from his face and frame. He channels the terror and rage into keeping himself from attacking this creature who would hold Foggy and Karen and anybody else over his head to make him do their bidding.

"Ah, yes. I see. But you do not see. I do not threaten these people. I offer you a… better chance, let's call it, for their safety."

"What are you talking about?"

"Where were they, these people, when the sky opened over New York and rained destruction upon your city?" Matt doesn't answer. He knows a rhetorical question when he hears one. Loki pulls his flask out from somewhere that Matt is certain hadn't existed a moment ago and takes a pull. "Would you like some?" he offers.

Matt knows this game. The powerful man taking his time with niceties while urgent matters loomed.

"Sure," he says, reaching for the container. He takes it and sets it on the coffee table without drinking. Loki cocks his head and Matt can feel the satisfied smirk being directed his way. It's eerie to know these things, and he wonders how Loki projects it so well that a blind man could "see" his smile. He wonders how he could ever tell fact from fiction if Loki chose to lie.

"I was there," Loki continues. "I was at the center of it all, a part of plots upon plans that you could not even imagine and of which no one besides myself will ever know." He humphs. "The Battle of New York, you call it." His voice darkens, and Matt remembers what stars looked like on a moonless night far from the City's glare when his father had taken him upstate that one time. His mind shows it to him now, but in a comfortless, soundless frozen vacuum.

"It was a kitten swatting at a pretty bauble on a string. The tiger approaches. When it arrives, it will not merely be with a clumsy and mindless Chitauri army. A weapon is being assembled which is beyond your understanding. The time, the warning gained in your Battle of New York is being squandered by fools."

Loki pauses, and when Matt inhales, he realizes he had been holding his breath as he listened.

"Matthew, your world may be destroyed. It will certainly be damaged, perhaps beyond recognition. I offer your loved ones passage to another land, that they may be spared the worst of it. Or at least delay their demise, should we fail to stem the tide. I offer you training, should you prove able, to better prepare you for what is to come."

"And in return?"

"Your obedience, when the time comes and terrible decisions must be made. Your dedication to destroying the approaching threat, though the world condemn you for aligning yourself with a cause of mine." Loki smiles, "And your charm and wit to act in the public eye when I cannot."

"This is something I'll regret, isn't it?"

The smile widens enough for Matt to actually hear the muscles slide lips from teeth. "Only should you survive. So probably not."