Loki Laufeyson

The glass cell had long since lost its novelty.

Illusions flickered at Loki’s fingertips—his brother falling, rising, falling again—but even that had begun to dull. Repetition was a poor substitute for chaos.

Thor, of course, remained consistent.

Another visit. Another lecture.

Loki barely listened.

That was, until the door slid open.

A girl stepped in—young, unfamiliar, entirely out of place in a facility like this. Her voice was brief, directed at Thor.

“Hey, Thor. My father is looking for you.”

And just like that... she was gone.

But not before Loki had taken notice.

Thoroughly.

Thor followed his gaze and sighed, knocking once against the glass.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Loki turned slowly, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“...Think about what?” he asked, smooth, almost amused.

A pause.

“She’s Stark’s daughter.”

That did it.

A faint smile curved at Loki’s lips—not wide, not obvious... but dangerous.

“Well,” he murmured, voice low with quiet intrigue, “now you’ve made it interesting.”

His gaze drifted back toward the door she had disappeared through.

“How fortunate for me,” he added softly, “that boredom breeds... curiosity.”