The day resumes in the lab where she works with fresher eyes and resolves yesterday's problem. The music's nice and when her eyes land on Loki's comfortable form lounging top the sofa she feels at ease. Everything is as it should be.

But then Jarvis alerts her Patrick's in the building and he's coming up to the workshop, papers that need signing, meetings that need planning, etc.

Like always he and Loki avoid addressing one another, as the red-head drones on about board problems and the amount of things Toni should have reviewed last week, and the things she needs to review this week.

"Yes, I'll wrap it up-"

"That's what you said last week," told in a tone collected and calm, despite his still evidently thinned patience with her. Great. This is just what she needed right now. "That's what you keep saying – Seriously, drop whatever you're doing and just finish it. It's not my company, Toni. It's yours. You want it to run then-"

"I said I'll do it, Pat. It is my company. So really, shit'll get done when I want it to get done," she plucks the file, turns on her heel towards the platform.

"That's not how it works and you know Toni. The world doesn't stop till you're in good enough a mood to deal!"

"I fail to grasp why you're still here," Loki's voice catches her off-guard – she turns just as Patrick faced the latter sat at the sofa and told:

"No one's talking to you Loki."

"Don't talk to him like that," is her automatic response and of course it infuriates Patrick. Good.

"I'll talk to him however I want!"

"No you fucking don't. Get out Patrick," they didn't exactly part on great terms. Patrick's quite dramatic. "Did what you came here to do. Kindly expect a response within three to four working days. Say hi to Happy for me."

"You're unbelievable." Loki stands – alarms in her head chime.

"And you're still talking like anyone gives a damn," coolly said as he neared Patrick slowly. Who's too amped up to know when to back down.

"The hell do you care? You think you're fooling anyone?"

"Darling if I wanted to fool anyone, into thinking you, died on a stairwell, I could very easily," casually smirked, despite the frigid tone, the words. Patrick looks at her, pale and speechless.

"This is what you want?" a question she does not appreciate. "This unhinged killer?" She would snap, on the killer's behalf, hadn't the killer snapped first:

"Do not presume to guess what she wants. You're quite bad at it."

"Oh and you're the expert."

"I am not lacking in common sense."

"Aren't you?" The god grins darkly.

"Careful Patrick."

"What'll you do, Loki?" a dare weak in nature. Even from where she stands she can see fear on him. She's caught between worrying, and the certainty that Loki wouldn't be foolish enough to: "Kill me? You'd be signing your own death-warrant." Cold laughter rings from the mage and he tsks, responding:

"So unimaginative," that should be worrying. She knows what Loki's capable of. She knows well he can pull things and strings for an outcome that can't be tied back to him. And that should be more worrying than it is for her, really.

"Loki," she calls instinctively, too softly, like it'd matter even if he doesn't face her, gaze solely fixed on Patrick and likewise, as she descends and nears and tells sternly: "Patrick leave," more warns. He looks at her eyes wild and heated. She glares right back, resolute. For once he listens, before things got out of hand.

The doors shut behind him, she sighs tensely. Glances at Loki who returns to his seat and she stares after for a moment, before follows and settles beside him, close enough their arms touch and knees, where elbows perch and they're bent forward.

"…You didn't have to do that," she says, knowing well his intention, grateful yes but. To step out of line to risk himself his freedom, risk this. It wasn't acceptable.

"I don't have to do anything," Loki says and she smiles, knowing well what he means. Her hearts swells and insides ache, yearning. She lay her head on his shoulder.

Loki faltered, for once caught off-guard but doesn't dare move. When his head just tilts her scent floods his nostrils, sweet and potent and vanilla, like her shampoo. A weight pressed on his chest, yearning.

"Would you kill someone, if I asked you to?" she finds herself asking. Loki's smile's genuine. He teased her:

"Who do you have in mind?" She giggled lifting her head to face him.

"No one." And her question pends still. He tells her the truth:

"…Yes, I would." And her warm brown eyes softened, her smile. Now she asks him:

"Would you, not kill someone, if I asked you?" This request, was different. Difficult. A promise, she was for asking, a promise he wasn't sure he could uphold. For were someone to hurt her, he couldn't promise not to hurt them.

But very well. He doesn't have to kill them. Death is unimaginative.

"I wouldn't," he promised. She smiles at him again, and he doubts there's anything he wouldn't do if she asked.

She lay her head on his shoulder again, her hand come to grasp his forearm.

For a moment reasons escape him, reasons to hold back so he lifts her easily and she yelps in surprise. He sat her in his lap and embraced her, lay her to his chest and held her.

She was justly overwhelmed her heart rapid in her chest, like Loki's against her clutched fist, that she opens to press palm flat and feel, the steady thud of his heartbeat. Her eyes shut she melts into him, sighing long, a relief like no other consumes her. This is it.

She wonders, of that kind of love and its origin. Does it stem from attraction, from minds and their shared thoughts, from acts of care, or all.

She bet it starts where pretense fails, where one can't hide, what they feel or want or fear. She bet it starts when there fails be need for pretense.