Loki's POV
I could hear them coming a mile off.
That was one perk of being the trapped in a building made of metal and concrete; you could hear everything that went on in the entire facility. All you had to do was hold very still. And then the entire building came alive with sounds; whirring of machinery, the murmurs of conversation, and the two very loud sets of footsteps coming his way.
I was lying down in my bed, eyes closed, just listening... and fuming. At first, my little punishment had been rather amusing. It was fun to see the fear in people's eyes as they looked at me, even if I had been sent there as a consequence for my failed conquest. They were wary of me. They didn't make eye contact and kept their heads down.
But that was the thing about mortals, most particularly Midgardians. They didn't stay silent for long. After a while, they began to get a bit snarky, dropping little insults here and there about my failure. The fear started to fade away. Sure, most still avoided me and didn't even try to meet my gaze, but the ones I had worked with got familiar with me and made their little comments as many times as they could.
So it was only a natural instinct that I never let anyone get familiar with me.
Their wit was nothing compared to my own. When I had first set foot on Midgard as a criminal come to "repent", I had been determined to coexist with the mortals with as little interaction with them as possible. I had been convinced that if I engaged in conversation, their humanity would rub off on me (which was one thing about them that I despised– well, the one thing I despised more than anything else).
That resolution no longer existed. Now I tried to fit in as many slurs as physically possible, insulting them left and right, so quickly that most of the time they didn't even understand what was going on. Another thing that frustrated me– there was no one around smart enough to comprehend the genius with which I insulted them (which is, as some of you may know, exasperating).
There was the sound of the door opening, and I heard that one mortal, Agent Kim: "Uh, watch yourself. He's in a bad mood today." And then I heard them both walk in.
I recognized Kim's steps immediately– it was slightly reminiscent of Thor's. Almost like heavy skipping, but, of course, it was a very manly skip (as the prince had once informed me).
The other set was unfamiliar, but after short debate I decided that it was a woman's. They were softer and more delicate, and reminded me of a cat's tread.
Instantly I set up a profile in my mind- new people meant new dossiers- and estimated that she was tall and thin, considering the noise (or rather, lack of noise) with which she walked. I also ruled out the possibility of her being vain or appearance obsessed– the tell-tale click of high-heels were absent from her gait. From what I could tell, she wasn't wearing any jewelry.
"So you sit here..." I heard someone pull out a chair. No doubt it was Kim, showing the rookie around. "...and pretty much just watch him. Today's your first, so he gets a day off. But tomorrow he's back on duty. There's a schedule on that computer for the upcoming week, if you cared to find it. But it's mostly just sitting and watching. Not even that. Just sit there. If he does anything suspicious, call us over. And if you need anything- anything at all-" Here I guessed he winked at her. "-just give /me/ a call."
"I'll be sure to." Her voice surprised me– I was expecting something high-pitched and annoying like the other mortal women who worked here, but instead it was more mellow, and almost musical. And there also seemed to be the trace of a foreign accent. It was hard to tell, considering that her tone was heavily laden with sarcasm (an emotion I was quite familiar with). "I mean, how could I not miss your endearing company?"
I almost smirked. It was interesting to hear someone reject Kim for once. Most of the women here fell for his clumsy charm (another attribute similar to Thor).
"You've got a sharp mind, Carren." I was grateful for the name and added it to the mental profile. The way he said it was interesting; rolling the r's slightly. Making it sound like "Caw-den." "I'll be sure to remember that about you. Which reminds me..."
He rapped his knuckles against the glass of my cage and I scowled. As if I could ignore his obnoxious yapping. "Loki! You got a visitor– she's actually your new supervisor. So... make nice, okay?" And with that, I heard him leave.
His word choice intrigued me; it wasn't often that he called me "Loki" in exchange for "Laufeyson", which most people seemed to adopt as my first name here.
Before I had a chance to ponder this, though, I was reminded of the new girl's presence by the sound of her pulling out her chair and sitting down.
I waited for her to speak– every supervisor I had landed myself with seemed to have felt compelled to try to make conversation. Usually starting simple, like, "Um, hi, I'm your new supervisor..." which I thought was rather lacking in tact. It wasn't like new guards for a jail introduced themselves to their prisoners, did they?
Others tried to lecture me, like, "Now, I don't want any funny business..." which I started to expect from all the men. It seemed to be some sort of customary Midgardian male greeting, which I was greatly familiar with (what, with being Thor's "brother" all these years). These I responded with a pithy comment, usually degrading their mortality or intelligence.
But she- Carren- didn't say a word. She simply sat there, and (from the clicks of her mouse) browsed her computer, no doubt searching for the schedule mentioned by Kim.
It was a pleasant surprise– I had no interest in wading through idle, awkward chit-chat with a mortal. Especially not a mortal whose city I attempted to destroy a mere three to four months ago.
My blissfully free-of-conversation silence was interrupted, however, by some sort of high-pitched wail that I could only surmise was one of those god-awful new genres of music Midgardians were listening to nowadays.
All of my original gratitude (however small) towards the mortal woman now evanesced, and I shifted my position ever so slightly on my bed to open my eyes and glare at the girl.
Her appearance came as something of a surprise.
The only thing I had seen women wearing in this realm had been business outfits and military uniforms, so her clothes made me do a double-take.
They consisted of a rather baggy red T-shirt advertising a musical band comprised of four people, pants made of a strange, fluffy-looking material, and a bed sheet wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.
It was such a bizarre collage of clothing that I blinked a couple of times, slightly taken aback, before noticing the rest of her.
Her hair was nothing like the neatly done, coiffed locks of the beautiful Asgardian Æsir or even the more muted styles of Midgard, instead resembling that of one who had just waken up and had not even bothered to look in a mirror (now that I thought about it, that's probably what she did).
Hairstyle aside, her hair itself was a light brown color, straight and rather long.
Her face was completely free of makeup or embellishment, which I must say came as something as a relief. I personally thought that the colors with which Midgardian women adorned themselves with were rather vulgar and unnatural-looking and they were constantly distracting me from what they were actually saying (add that to their list of irritating attributes).
Another comment on her overall appearance; it was refreshing. Most of the mortals here were so made-up and stiff and... just so uptight that it had an unsettling effect on me (not that I ever let them know). But the carelessness with which this girl had dressed and arrived- so unlike the crisp uniforms and neat suits I had witnessed so far- was... refreshing. An honest fluke in these concrete walls of insincerity. As invigorating as a breath of warm spring air in the desolation of winter.
Apparently I had been contemplating her appearance for a bit longer than was socially acceptable, because she quirked her eyebrows. "Oh is my music disturbing you, your highness?"
My mouth formed a retort before I even had chance to think about it. "Music? I'm sorry; I thought that was you screaming in pain and turned around to verify."
The corner of her lips twitched. "And I'm sure then you would have watched happily, eating popcorn, while I died a slow and painful death, yes?"
"No."
Her eyebrows drew together, and she seemed confused by my answer, like she had thought I would agree. "No?"
"No." I repeated. "There's no popcorn in here. And I also feel compelled to say that I can fathom no realistic reason as to why I would want to eat this greasy "popped corn" anyway."
"Meaning you've eaten it before."
"Pardon?"
"How would you know it was greasy if you've never eaten it?"
"Oh, I just assumed; you know, mortals and grime generally fit together marvelously."
"You should know that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."
"In this case, just you."
"Who is the one here that's a) a prisoner and b) behind a wall of bullet-proof glass?"
"Directions are all relative on a circular planet. For instance, from my point of view, you are the one that's behind glass."
"For one that hates mortals, you seem to know quite a bit about us."
"How so?"
"Well, you know that popcorn is indeed "popped corn", and you know that our planet is circular."
"No. I'm just not a witless, blundering oaf like the rest of you."
"You just slammed yourself."
"Did I?"
"Yes. You just labeled my race as "witless and blundering", correct?"
"Must I reiterate? Should I spell it out for you?"
She ignored my sarcasm and plowed on with her explanation. "Well, you should just know that it was these "witless and blundering oafs" that caused you to ultimately fail in your invasion of the Earth. Hm, if you're beaten by people with no intelligence, then what does that make you?"
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. And, to my surprise, I found myself without any comeback. For one of the only times in my life, I was speechless.
When she discovered that I wasn't going to reply, Carren smiled smugly in triumph and turned back to her computer.
It was then that I knew.
No matter how refreshing she was, she was going to have to go.
"Well, Kim? How did it go?"
"She's an amazing girl, Director. You were right. This is going to be a very interesting few weeks."
"Why? What happened?"
"They had a conversation, and she managed to match him."
"Not a light achievement. That's Carren for you– never without her wit."
"No kidding. She just bested Laufeyson in a full-out insult war. I could barely follow along on the cameras."
"Mm. Well, we'll see how it works out. Laufeyson's going to Stark Tower tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, tell Tony to go over there as well. Let's see how she deals with Iron Man, who is just as annoying as Laufeyson is. God help her when they're together."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I would like it if some of you dropped a review. ;)
Review, favorite, follow.