And that was how Loki found himself in an admittedly very regal Midgardian restaurant, with a Midgardian newspaper in front of him and a Midgardian girl sat opposite.

"So," said Gwen, staring at the silverware in front of her with an intense expression, "which one do I use first?"

"Work from the outside in," Loki advised her, setting aside the newspaper and glancing at the menu with vague distaste. This may have been one of the best restaurants on the planet, according to Gwen, but he doubted their finest dish could hold a candle to the kitchens of Asgard. But he was finally prepared to admit that he would not enjoy the company there quite as much; he could like Gwen without having feelings for her, whatever his subconscious said. Plus, she didn't think he was his father, which was always pleasant.

She looked up at him. "I like your normal face better," she said, narrowing her eyes at his glamour.

"It is an excellent one," he agreed, which made her laugh. A black-jacketed waiter approached the table.

"Can I fetch you some drinks sir, madame?"

"The strongest wine you have," Loki answered for the pair of them, and the man nodded before disappearing. Gwen looked very impressed.

"Cor," she said, "I feel well posh."

"Well you certainly don't sound it. Did you really impale the man with your heel?"

"Yeah, it was awesome. Blood went everywhere, even on the ceiling."

"I noticed," Loki said drily, and the waiter returned to fill their glasses and take their orders. "What are you having?"

"The cheese thing, please."

"Sir?"

"I'm not eating."

"He'll have the same as me," Gwen informed the waiter. "What? I'm paying, anyway. With real money. That I earned. Of my own volition."

"Anything else to add?" Loki asked, as the waiter took their menus.

"Nope. How much do you know about Viking civilisation?" she asked him, out of the blue.

"Very little," he replied, "after the war against Jotunheim, Odin thought it best to stay away from mortals who prayed to us as gods. I was too young to remember anything before that."

"Damn," she said, "I was gonna ask you some questions about it. Nothing better than primary evidence." She tore a hunk of bread off the rolls in the table and dipped it in her wine. "Although I didn't specialise in Scandinavian history, so you're not as interesting as, like, Cicero or whatever."

"Who?" Loki asked.

"Roman politician," she told him through a mouthful of wine. "And lawyer. Won his first court case by making a joke about the prosecution's mum."

"You would rather talk to a bureaucrat than me?" he said, feeling rather affronted.

"Oh," she sighed, "Cicero still ain't even my first choice. Now, Tiberius Gracchus, there's a guy I'd like to buy dinner…" she caught his expression and sniggered. "You are so easy to wind up," she told him.

"Says the woman who nearly killed a man today," Loki retorted, and she shrugged.

"He was asking for it," she said. "Y'know, despite being an elitist bastard who tried to take over the world, you're one of the nicer guys I've met."

"Despicable people always make for the best company," he said, "you being another example."

"Mr Odinson," she said in a funny accent, "ya do know how to make a girl feel special."

"I try my best. Tell me about the stone."

"Oh, right." She downed half her glass of wine before continuing. "So, this part isn't very publically known, but the stone that gave your sceptre its power is what Ultron was gonna use to power his new body, right? 'Cept instead the freak show got a hold of this body and Thor jumpstarted the crystal instead, yeah, and now Stark's butler AI has the body, and the stone to boot, which he uses to shoot lasers out of his forehead and other cool shit like that. And obviously, right, that would be a threat, but apparently he's like, capable of lifting your big brother's hammer so they all trust him."

"Say that last part again," Loki said slowly.

"He's worthy." The glimmer in Gwen's eyes indicated she had already guessed how much it annoyed Loki that someone else could lift the hammer and not him. "But the crux of it is, this mind-control stone is safe from whotsisface."

"Thanos."

"That's what I said. Unless he tries to rip it out of this new bloke's forehead, but like I said, he's got a laser face, which would make that difficult."

"Don't underestimate him," Loki muttered, and she gave him a cool look.

"So this hammer," she said with the ghost of a grin, "it's, like, your complex and your power fantasy. Blimey, Freud would have a field day with you." At that point, the waiter returned and deposited two dishes in front of them, and the girl's expression faltered as she faced the problem of what fork to use. "Uh oh."

"Having trouble?" he asked innocently.

"It's been ten years since I last used cutlery," she said, picking something up from either side with a large amount of difficulty. "Right…" she dropped the knife into her food, sighed, and picked up another one.

Loki grabbed her hand just as she went to fumble it again, his fingers brushing against her coarse skin. "Mouse," he said.

"What?" Her eyes still made him feel uncomfortable when she fixed her stare upon him like that.

He started to grin. "Fuck it," he said, and she started to laugh as she dropped the utensils and scooped up the food with her fingers.

"You are a terrible influence on me," she said through a mouthful, and neither of them mentioned that he was still holding her other hand. He let go as soon as he realised but the sensation of her skin against his seemed to linger, the thought of her hand on him again making his heart race.

Loki swore under his breath.

"What is it now?" Gwen asked, already halfway through her meal.

I think I might be in love with you. "I just noticed Algernon in your pocket. You brought your pet mouse to dinner with you… I don't even know what to say to that."

"He gets lonely," she said reproachfully, "and James is working late, so he couldn't keep an eye on him."

"He's a mouse, Gwen! What's he going to do, throw a banquet and wreck the kitchen?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gwen snapped, "he's way too sensible to do that."

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation," he said flatly, "this is why Midgardians are tearing each other apart. You're all idiots."

"You got slam-dunked by the Hulk!"

"How do you even know about that?" he demanded.

"Stark took the CCTV footage and put it on youtube, it's got about two billion views."

"I understood precisely none of that."

"Starving children in Africa have probably seen you getting the shit beaten out of you by an angry green guy," she explained, "the freakin' Dalai Lama's probably seen it. I will bet large sums of money that Obama's got a shortcut to it on his browser homepage-"

"I will kill you and feed your eyes to carrion if you carry on talking."

"You are so rude," she said, dipping her hands in her water glass to wash them before wiping them on the tablecloth. "Learn some manners, posh boy."

"Out of all the people in the Nine Realms," he said softly, "I had to get stuck with your delightful company."

He liked the way she smiled at that; it was a mix of "I am here only to annoy you" and, beneath that, her seeming to be quite flattered. When she smiled, she could almost be mistaken for pretty.

Damn his subconscious to Hel and back.

A/N I'm alive!