"Hey, guys," Max called over her shoulder, squinting down at the procession taking place on the street in front of the building. "I swear… This is the same guy I saw yesterday."

"Max, can you get away from the window?"

She pursed her lips, hating to annoy Sue more than she already did—for reasons both known and unknown to her—but she continued to hover, watching. There, driving by the building, was a convertible. In the convertible sat a man, and if she squinted hard enough, she could see that he was wearing a flashy suit and a pair of stylish aviators. There were four motorcycles surrounding the vehicle with little green flags billowing atop antenna-like poles at the back. A tank lumbered slowly behind the entire thing, bringing up the rear at a good twenty-foot distance.

It had been there yesterday too. It was like a parade when a famous politician or astronaut or actor sat in some open car and waved to their adoring fans. However, there were no barricades on the sidewalk, nor were there hundreds of people lining the street. She had seen handfuls of people walking this way and that ever since Loki brought it to her attention—none of them stopped to look or acknowledge the display in the street. The man in the suit didn't wave, nor did he do anything in particular; he seemed to be watching, and occasionally smiling.

The entire tower had congregated for a group breakfast that morning. Sue needed to use up two loaves of bread before they went stale, and at Johnny's suggestion, they were going to feast on French toast. Franklin was absolutely delighted at the prospect, and once Max and Loki made an appearance almost a half hour earlier, the boy took her aside and asked her to help him wash the fruits they were going to decorate the toast with.

It was the only food aside from Kraft Dinner that she had ever seen Franklin gush over, and his parents seemed to be taking the opportunity to pump him full of every kind of vitamin they could before he went back to his usual meal. Kraft Dinner was not a healthy option—Max wasn't sure why Sue and Reed didn't force the kid to eat better, but it wasn't her business to say anything.

Loki had already heard an earful about it, but he wasn't exactly the best to rant to on subjects he didn't care about.

Speaking of Loki—he had ignored her for an entire evening, during which Johnny took any and every opportunity to make her blush. He seemed to get a real kick out of making her go red, and she was fairly sure he didn't realize how much it bothered Loki. Still, she was more annoyed with Loki than Johnny: he was being childish about something that was all in good fun. It reminded her of how he was whenever she and Ben acted too chummy in his presence, and that wasn't a period from their history that she was interested in reliving.

After watching a Disney classic with Peter, Johnny, Reed and the kids, Max had drifted up to their floor that night with the intention of straightening things out with Loki. However, when she found him brooding in front of their window, she couldn't bring herself to pick a fight. She didn't have the energy to justify her feelings, and instead, she tried to playfully break the tension through other means. First, she had hugged him from behind. When she received no response, Max had tried to tug him toward the bed, but it was like tugging on a stone statue. In the end, she had placed her hands on his shoulders and hopped up, locking her legs around him and clinging to him—kissing him. That managed to make him smile, chuckle even, and they had ended up falling asleep together in a temporary truce.

That was two days ago. The truce seemed to be holding up just fine, and every time she saw Johnny, she worked on steeling herself against his flirtations.

It was just so difficult. He was a sex symbol—someone she had only ever seen through a screen or on a page. It was hard to treat him as a real person, let alone a real person who liked to see how far he could go with her. Sue seemed less than impressed with her brother's antics, and he finally simmered down after she delivered a pointed kick under the table that everyone else pretended to ignore.

Loki offered to wash all the dishes for her after that.

But all those things were trivial compared to what was happening out there. This guy—this asshole riding around in a fancy car wearing an expensive suit—was someone they ought to pay attention to. French toast could wait.

"Max."

Sue's voice left little room for argument, and as she slid off the chair that was positioned next to said giant window—why put it there if no one could sit in it?—Max continued to watch the car roll by.

"I swear… it's the same guy as yesterday." She said it more to herself than to anyone who was listening. Dishes clanked together behind her, cutlery deposited on the kitchen island, and Franklin was arguing with Ben about the likelihood of one cartoon character winning in a fight against the other.

Suddenly, an arm looped around her midsection, and she squealed as Loki hoisted her up and set her down away from the window.

"Okay," she groaned, poking her tongue out at him and shoving at his chest. "I'm going."

"You left me no choice."

He practically purred the words at her, and she found it difficult to muster up an annoyed expression—not when he looked and sounded so damn charming. He seemed to reserve that side just for her these days, speaking like that when he knew nobody could hear him.

"Whatever," she muttered as she straightened out her shirt. "That doesn't change the fact that some… guy—" She quickly changed her word of choice for the sake of the kids. "—has been driving around today and yesterday like he's practicing for a parade. I swear it's… It seems like the same car too."

Loki's eyebrows flickered up slightly, and he turned back to the window when she searched the rest of the room for some reassurance.

"Wait, is it this guy?"

Sure enough, Peter seemed to be paying attention. He set down the half-empty bottles of syrup he had been carrying and hopped over the couch. Valeria shied out of the way, clutching her colouring book to her chest as he plunked down beside her. When Max approached, she stood up and scuttled away entirely, hiding behind her dad's legs. Max grinned as the man stumbled over her, shooting the little girl a look before softly shooing her away.

Snatching the remote off the coffee table, Peter turned on the television screen and flicked through various channels.

"I keep seeing this one guy everywhere…"

Nothing but pure propaganda made it through their receivers; no matter how many times Johnny attempted to reboot their network. From what Max understood, they mostly used the TV for movies these days.

"Wait, that's him!" Max said hastily, pointing at the screen when a familiar set of sunglasses appeared on a brown-haired man. Slicked back and smooth—that hair was what really got her. She shifted her weight from side to side, watching the commercial with furrowed eyebrows.

The man claimed to be President of the Americas—North, Central, and South—under the Great King Loki. He asked for patience in the transition. He spoke against violence. He called for compliance.

He looked like a douchebag.

"Yeah, this commercial is on a loop on some channels," Peter told her, pointing at the screen with the remote. "I don't know what they thought they'd accomplish by playing it over and over again… People aren't going to watch it."

"You look good on the ol' TV, Loki," Johnny teased, hovering over Max's shoulder as he squinted at the commercial. "Wish you'd smile more. You've got a lovely smile."

The footage of Loki was brief, and it appeared to have been filmed without his knowledge. He was speaking with a short, hunched woman, a metallic spear glistening in his hand under what Max assumed was false lighting. He looked unimpressed with everything—and that was putting it mildly. She grinned.

"The Great King Loki," she said, trying the words out for size. "It's got a nice ring to it."

Loki snatched the remote from Peter and turned the TV off. Johnny groaned dramatically, and Max smirked as she watched him skulk back to breakfast preparations, each movement dramatic to encourage Valeria's soft giggles.

"The man calls himself Carl," Loki informed them stiffly. "He bartered my release from the Chitauri so I might be the puppet king of his new empire."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "So he's a big-shot in all this, huh?"

Loki stared at the man for a moment before letting his gaze drift to Max.

"So it would seem."

She wished he would tell her what happened out there—what had really gone on while he was captured. Even if he didn't think it would do him any good, Max wanted to know so she could try to understand him—to understand this new Loki she shared a bed with.

Licking her lips, she stepped around Peter and reached for the remote.

"Who was the stone-cold fox standing with you?" she asked playfully as Loki held the black rectangle out of reach. "I want to see more of her."

"She made me presentable for my subjects," Loki told her, stepping to the side as Max tried to jump up and grab the remote from him. "She's was quite abrupt… Sometimes I wonder if she was the one in charge."

"I want to see her again," she chuckled. "Your height differences deserve another look."

Peter laughed weakly behind her, but based on the look Loki shot his way, Max could only assume she was on her own for this. After a brief episode of embarrassingly pathetic struggling on Max's part, Loki conceded the remote to her—but not in a way that looked like he was just giving it to her, despite the fact that that was how it all played out. Max darted away with a victorious grin, holding the device to her chest before turning the TV back on.

"Oh, look… There you are!" Max teased when she saw a brief image of Loki. He was quickly replaced by this "Carl" person, and she frowned. "Does he look like he plucks his eyebrows?"

"No guy has eyebrows that neat without doing it," Johnny commented from the kitchen. She heard Ben sigh noisily, though she didn't look in his direction—she still found him a little off-putting in person.

Besides, he hadn't said more than ten words directly to Max since she arrived—like Sue, he didn't seem to be her biggest fan.

The commercial's sound suddenly cut out, catching their collective attention, and Max's eyebrows shot up as a pixelated image of Captain America flashed across the screen. The picture came and went, and for five long seconds, it was perfectly clear.

"…situation will be resolved. Stay in your homes until—"

And then he was gone, replaced by a smiling Carl, a miserable Loki, and a hunched woman.

"I'm not the only one who saw that, right?" Peter asked after the commercial played out in its entirety. "He… That was…"

Max nodded when he looked at her, though she couldn't find the words to express what that brief glimmer of hope made her feel. When she turned to Loki, he seemed equally perplexed: eyebrows knitted, mouth turned slightly downward in a small frown. He looked distant, unfocused.

"TV off," Sue ordered, cutting through the stunned silence. "French toast is ready to go."

This time, she listened; pointing the remote at the screen, Max pressed her thumb down on the power button. The picture disappeared in a flash, leaving nothing but a blank image. Loki's gaze lingered there for a moment longer, and only when she touched his hand with hers did he blink. He then leaned down and kissed the side of her head before stepping around her and commenting on the delicious odour of Sue's culinary accomplishments.

She wasn't sure what had come over her, but when everyone had finished their marathon breakfast, she volunteered to hang out with Franklin and Valeria while Johnny, Sue, and Reed had a little time to themselves. The idea of babysitting seemed mildly off-putting to Loki, and when he made some feeble excuse to do something else—anything else—in the tower, Max shooed him away with a smirk.

It wasn't that difficult. At first, the kids sat at the kitchen island with their homework books under strict instructions from Sue to get through the next chapter. The woman seemed impressed that Max offered to help out whenever they had a question, and she hoped that it would put her in a better light for the Storm matriarch.

Unfortunately, she hadn't accounted for how incredibly boring babysitting kids would be when they were genuinely interested in their homework. Valeria was working on her letters, though when Max took a closer look over her shoulder, she seemed to be writing in immaculate cursive script—a stunning achievement for a kid who couldn't be any older than four or five. Franklin, on the other hand, was crawling through a sea of multiplication tables without a calculator. He'd stop and struggle for a moment, his forehead wrinkled in concentration, and then wade through without asking Max for help.

She felt more useless than she anticipated.

About an hour in to the quiet study session, Reed joined them again. However, after checking on their progress, he drifted into the kitchen area, and when Max asked him what he was up to, he told her he decided to spend the day making chili.

"I like to make it once a year," he told her, "and I seldom find I have the time."

She stared at his back as he moved from cupboard to cupboard, and then sighed. "Yeah, lots of time these days."

Time that could be spent doing something more productive than making chili, but she held her tongue. Fifteen slow minutes ticked by afterward, and Max finally pushed her two-week old magazine away and tapped on the countertop. Franklin looked up curiously.

"I think you guys have earned a break," she told them warmly. Reed glanced over his shoulder, and when she looked to him for approval, he gave a small nod. "Why don't we play something?"

Valeria's little mouth opened, and Max braced herself for the girl's first words spoken directly to her. However, Franklin overpowered her immediately. He shut his math book and pushed it away, practically oozing with excitement.

"I'll set up the chess board!"

Valeria deflated a little, and Max watched her pick up her pencil and resume her writing.

"Well, no, let's save that for later," Max said tactfully. "Let's find something all three of us can play." Franklin frowned, seeming equally put-out by the suggestion. "Chess is more of a two-player game."

"We can play on teams—"

"No, let's play another game," she said, sliding off the high wooden chair and gesturing toward the hall. "I saw some board games in the closet…"

"But those don't take any skill," Franklin complained. Max ignored his protests: not only did she not want to play chess, but she did genuinely want to involve Valeria in something. So, she stopped at a linen closet in the hall just outside of the kitchen and pulled the door open. The old, worn game boxes were stacked neatly on the top shelf, and when she pulled one out, she coughed at the sprinkling of dust that came with it.

Out of all the games there, the one that seemed most appropriate—and that Max once knew how to play inside and out—was Candy Land. When she returned with the box, she saw Valeria's smile brighten, but also heard Franklin groan.

"That's a girl's game."

"I don't think the evil Lord Licorice is a girl's character," Max retaliated, gesturing for the two to follow her to the coffee table. "There's a character for everyone here."

"It's less about the characterization of the creatures and more about the luck of the draw," Valeria prattled suddenly. Max almost dropped the box, gawking at the girl as she followed shyly behind her older brother. "It's a game that is fair to all its players, which is why it is ideal for families."

She only noticed her mouth was hanging open after the kids walked past her, and she looked back at Reed—stunned. The man seemed to be watching her, and when their gazes met, he smirked and shrugged, a can of sauce in hand.

The girl had the vocabulary of a teenager—maybe even an adult.

Trying to regain some composure, Max set the box down on the coffee table and kneeled beside it, carefully removing the dusty lid and setting it back on the couch.

"That doesn't mean it's not a girl's game," Franklin muttered. "Look at the cover."

"It's a game for everyone," Max said firmly. "It's a racing game… It's no different than snakes and ladders."

At least, she hoped it wasn't—she hadn't played either in years. However, judging by the flash of confusion on both Franklin and Valeria's faces, she assumed neither of them had played the game at all.

Franklin was appeased when he was given first pick of the coloured pieces—he chose red—as Max set up the board, all the while watching Valeria. The girl only said a few more words here and there, mostly about the pros and cons of choosing a certain colour, and she remained stunned at just how gifted a speaker the little girl was. She sounded like an average girl: her voice was still high—and the louder she spoke, the more nasally it seemed. However, her articulation was beyond that of an ordinary child, and her vocabulary was clearly exceptional.

Max wound up with a blue piece, and after skimming the instructions, she reiterated the rules for them.

"So, each card has a colour," she told them, setting the stack at the side, "and the colour will tell you where you move on the board. The first one to Candy Castle wins."

"What do we win?" Franklin asked as she settled down on the floor, crossing her legs and getting comfortable.

"Um…" She shuffled the cards absently, looking for a distraction. "You win… bragging rights?"

"That's no fun."

"You don't win anything substantial in chess either," Valeria argued as she pushed her piece perfectly in line with the first square of the colourful trail. "It's essentially the same victory."

"The winner can have an extra dessert tonight," she promised, though neither of them seemed too impressed with the idea. She licked her lips, wracking her brain for something else. "I… I'll find something. It'll be a surprise. A good one."

Damn it. She heard Reed chuckling from the kitchen, and she shot him a look over her shoulder.

The game started off well. Once Franklin was in the lead, he seemed to forget that this was a "girl's" game and that there wasn't much of a prize at the end. Valeria was right: the nature of the game meant that everyone was on equal footing. When Max was forced to go back to Gumdrop Mountains when she drew the card, both kids giggled delightedly.

It was nice to see them doing something child-related. So far, she had seen them do homework and watch movies. Max was sure they did other things—she hadn't seen their rooms yet—but it hardly seemed like enough. They couldn't go outside to play, and she was surprised they were so well-behaved when they had so little to keep them entertained.

Franklin groaned noisily when he drew his next card, and then tried to shove it under the deck.

"Redraw—"

"No, let me see," Max said gently, taking the card from him. He drew Peppermint Forest, which meant his piece needed to go back to the start of the trail. "You know what to do."

"But I'm almost at Candy Castle!"

He was the farthest ahead of the three pieces, but that meant little in the grand scheme of things.

"That's the joy of Candy Land," she argued, tapping the bottom corner of the board, "and those are the rules. Back you go."

Valeria giggled, muffling the sound with her tiny hands, and Max couldn't help but grin.

"But that's not fair!"

"What are you talking about?" she chuckled as she set the card in the used pile. "If I picked that card, I'd have to go back to the beginning too."

"So why don't you?"

"Because I didn't choose the card," Max reasoned. She pointed at his piece. "Down to the Peppermint Forest with you."

"I hear the weather is lovely this time of year," Valeria chirped, giggling again. Franklin's cheeks were red.

"It's not fair!"

She felt her temper rising too: handling kids throwing tantrums wasn't her speciality. However, taking a deep breath seemed to help, and she tried to work on her reasoning skills.

"But there's a good chance you could draw a card that will get you right back to the top—"

"I don't want to start again!"

"Franklin—"

"No!"

Then, out of nowhere, all of the cards and pieces flew off the board, scattering in every direction. Max's little blue player hit Valeria in the forehead, and the girl let out a startled cry. Something shattered across the room—it sounded like a glass falling from the counter and hitting the floor. In the silence that followed, Max noticed Franklin's eyes were red, and a lone tear rolled down each cheek.

"Franklin Benjamin Richards," Reed snapped, stalking across the room and looming over them. "In your room… Now."

"I'm sorry," the boy whimpered, slowly getting to his feet and looking from Max to Valeria. "I just didn't want to—"

"Now, Franklin."

He scuttled away quickly after shooting her one last apologetic look. The boy skirted around his father, and she could hear him make a run for the hall.

Max leaned against the couch, trying to process everything that had just happened. She pressed her lips together and then started to gather up the scattered pieces. It was only when she grabbed a few cards by Valeria that she noticed the girl. With her legs drawn to her knees, the little brilliant thing was trembling, and there was a thin line of blood trickling from the spot where the game piece hit her.

"Oh, Reed…" Max set the cards aside and touched Valeria's thin arm, but she flinched away—she started to cry. Reed bent down and hoisted the girl up, setting her on his hip and scrutinizing the wound.

"It's not that bad," he told her softly. "You can pick whatever Band-Aid you want, okay?"

"Okay." She sniffled loudly, wrapping her arms around Reed's neck. Max pushed herself to her feet, taking in the messy state of the room.

"What just happened?"

"It's nothing to worry about—"

"Did Franklin do that?"

Reed stared at her for a moment, his thin lips pressed together firmly, and then cleared his throat.

"No more games for today, okay?"

She nodded and waited for something more substantial, but nothing came. Instead, he motioned back the stove and hoisted Valeria up a little higher.

"Can you watch my chili?"

"I…" She shook her head. "Yeah, I guess so—"

"Thanks."

And with that, he turned and marched out of the room. Valeria watched Max over his shoulder—it seemed her tears had stopped.

The one major issue about having a bathroom on the highest floor of the tower was that the hot water took ages to kick in. For the longest time, Max cowered in the corner of the little cubicle, skin painfully prickled as she waited for a more comfortable temperature. When the heat finally did start up, it went from lukewarm to scalding in a matter of seconds—Max would then be forced the turn the temperature back down to cold and start the whole process again. Sometimes she'd have shampoo in her eye, other times she'd be waiting with the soapy cloth she used, but every time she showered, it was a dance between hot and cold.

After her strange experience with Reed and the kids that afternoon, she wandered the tower to find Loki. When she eventually happened upon him in their private kitchen, sitting in the beautiful window space with a book in his hands, she didn't have the heart to pester him. In the end, she and Peter wound up watching two movies before dinner, and then surfed through the propagandized television channels after they ate with the hopes of catching a glimpse of Captain America again. That turned out to be a fruitless venture; Johnny even hung around for a while, but he left when boredom struck. Max followed shortly after, which meant she left Peter in front of the TV with a remote in his hand and a determined expression on his face.

She tried to shower as infrequently as she could, and always at night. She didn't want to waste any water, nor did she want to cause a spike in the hydro bill, but tonight it was an act of desperation: her hair actually left grease on her hands when she ran her fingers through it. Loki was reading the same book when she arrived, but he had moved to the bedroom now and he seemed to be almost finished it. He even declined her invite to join her in the shower—perhaps because it sounded as half-hearted as it felt.

Shower sex was difficult at the best of times—they didn't need to overcomplicate it by the fact that they had to be extremely selective with their positioning now.

So, after a good ten minutes of doing the shower dance, Max decided that enough was enough. She had been able to get some shampoo through her hair, and that was all that mattered. Turning the nozzle off, she darted out of the cubicle and grabbed the towel off the rack on the back of the door. As she dried herself off, she took a moment to examine all her fading bruises: most of the original marks were gone, but there were some newer, tender ones on her thighs. Even with their selective positioning, it seemed like she and Loki were going to need some practice at getting things right.

Sighing, she wrapped the towel around her, tucking the end of it under her armpit, and then ran her fingers through her hair. After getting rid of some of the tangles, she turned off the light and moved back into the bedroom. Loki was sprawled out on the bed, one knee bent as he held the book at an arm's length above him.

Max cocked her head to the side, watching him for a moment, and then tip-toed to the head of the bed. Then, when he gave no reaction to her looming presence, she snatched the book forcefully out of his hand and hopped onto the bed beside him. He shot her a scowl.

"Pay attention to me," she whined playfully, pushing on his chest with her free hand. He chuckled softly, his expression softening, and then rolled onto his side.

"Have I been ignoring you?"

"Yes." She pouted, which made him roll his eyes. "You've been ignoring me for…" She turned the book over and scanned the title, and then frowned. "Gray's Anatomy. Are you serious? A medical textbook?"

"Don't sound so incredulous," Loki told her, taking the book from her and trailing a finger down its spine. "Reed lent it to me… He's had some thoughts about the invasion, and I wished to learn more about human anatomy before I offered my say."

"Oh?" She shuffled down onto her back, and then watched Loki push her wet hair away from him with a bit of a grimace. "What did he have in mind?"

"He mentioned a vaccine," he told her. He then dog-eared a page in the text and tossed it onto the floor. "He seems to think it has potential."

"Yeah, if Sue actually lets him do it," Max muttered, folding her arms across her chest and huffing. "I'm surprised he's got that much at this point."

They were silent for a moment, and Max spent it raging about the inaction of the occupants in this tower. She came back to reality, however, when Loki smoothed his hand along her arm.

"I've been reading about anatomy all day," he murmured, sidling closer and pressing his lips to her temple—then her cheek, her neck, her ear. "Perhaps you could give me a practical demonstration?"

"Wow," she laughed, squirming away and rolling onto her side when his hands started to wander. "That was bad."

"I thought it was aptly suitable for the conversation."

Her eyebrows shot up as he grinned, and Max gave him a quick peck, pulling back before he could catch her.

"I have a question," she said, wrapping both arms around his and holding it to her chest—as though it was a pillow or stuffed toy, cuddling it close. "When did you… You can do magic, right?"

He blinked lazily at her, as if waiting for more, and then nodded. "Yes, I believe that's been established."

"Right, okay, so," she rambled, her cheeks pinking. "When did you know you could do magic?"

"When?"

"Like… at what age?"

He thought for a moment, his gaze seeming unfocused, and then shook his head. "I'm afraid I can no longer remember the exact age."

"Did you just know how to do it?" She wasn't really sure how to phrase questions regarding magic because, up until she learned about who Loki really was, she didn't believe in its existence. It still felt absurd to have a genuine discussion about it.

"No, I needed to be taught to control it, to shape it," he said. His fingers tickled under her chin. "Why do you ask?"

"I think…" Max pursed her lips, searching for the right wording. "I think Franklin can do magic too."

"Oh?"

"He lost his temper when we were playing Candy Land today," she carried on, thinking back to that moment, "and all the cards and pieces went flying everywhere… and I found some broken glass by the counter after."

"The objects moved on their own?"

"That's what it looked like, anyway," she said, nodding, pleased that he hadn't simply laughed at her and shrugged it off. "And Reed punished him for it, and nobody really acknowledged it at dinner, and I just… I don't think they know what they're dealing with."

Loki arched an eyebrow. "That's quite the assumption, Max."

She frowned. "I guess."

"For all you know, it isn't magic at all."

"But Reed just… He didn't react to it like he should have," she argued. "I mean, he sent Franklin to his room for an outburst."

"As is his right as the boy's father—"

"I was thinking," she said forcefully, trying to keep them from getting off-track, "that maybe you could talk to him. Or maybe try to help him, or just show him that you can do… or… something."

"I hardly think it's my place to do that."

"But what would it have been like it no one showed you how to handle your shit?" She exhaled deeply, shaking her head and fiddling with his fingers. "He can do something. I don't know if it's magic, but he looked so upset with himself for doing it." She met his gaze. "I think you should help him out a little."

Loki made a sound that was a cross between a groan and a sigh, and then scooped her up and dragged her on top of him.

"Hey, no," she laughed as she tried to fend off his fingers, which were successfully unwrapping her towel. "Focus!"

"I am focused," he hissed, cupping her face and dragging her down for a heated kiss. Her stomach knotted as a twinge of arousal shot through her, and Max was quickly lost for words. They could talk later—the issue wasn't going to go anywhere.

"You c-can't distract me," she protested weakly, grasping his shoulder as he ran his lips down her neck. She squeaked when he nipped at her—hard.

"I beg to differ."

He rolled her onto her back and tossed the towel aside, his lips attacking her sensitive skin.

Two hours later, when he finally finished with her, with fucking and biting and kissing and holding, Max fell asleep at his side, unable to recall what they had even been talking about in the first place.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I realized today that my weekly updates are sort of like waiting for a weekly TV show to come out. I understand if people want to wait and read a bunch of updates at one time… I tend to do that with my TV shows these days. Anyway. Random thoughts from a tired author. I'm surprised I managed to get this out at all this week… It's been busy, and it will keep being busy. But I'm still on schedule! Woo!

I was thrilled that so many people (in the reviews, anyway) gave me the thumbs up for the more focused approach to Max and Loki's relationship. I sometimes feel like I'm starting all over again with these two, because they are different people now than they were two years ago—it's interesting and a fun dynamic, and I'd like to dedicate time to it. And I guess a plot can happen too.

I guess.

I'm pretty pumped for the next two chapters. Spoilers, for those who like that kind of stuff: there will be alcohol consumption and underage drinking and drama. And. Well, I'm excited. I'll hopefully get started this Friday and have it finished for some time next week. My weekend is kind of full at the moment, so here's to hoping I get some spare time.

Thank you all so much for your lovely words of support! I have a few people who have just finished TSiF and are now working their way through this story, and it's awesome and I LOVE YOU ALL! See you next week!