Every day when you had some free time, you’d grab a book and head to a relatively quiet place. Since Loki had arrived, you’d discovered that a “relatively quiet place” could be found wherever the Asgardian god was. The others always seemed to be able to find excuses to leave any room Loki was in. You, however, were intrigued by him. You tried each day to make polite conversation, hoping to get him talking, but so far, you hadn’t succeeded. Maybe you needed to try a more direct approach. You slammed your book shut abruptly, causing him to jump slightly, turning his steely eyes towards you.
“I don’t bite, you know,” you quipped in frustration, refusing to back down from his gaze. He stayed mute and motionless, a small smirk playing on his lips and one eyebrow raised in amusement at your unexpected outburst. It was the first time you’d ever really seen him look directly at you, and you were taken aback by how mesmerizing his eyes were. You swallowed hard before continuing. “Why don’t you talk to me? I’ve never even heard your voice.” You unfolded your legs from underneath you, dropping your feet back down to the floor. You sat straight up, your body rigid with irritation. Loki watched you for another moment before turning away, staring outside again. Annoyed at his blatant disregard for you, you stood up and began to march out of the room.
“You mean to tell me that you aren’t afraid of me?” His voice stopped you dead in your tracks. His smooth and sultry accent sent a shiver down your spine, but his words had you whirling around to face him. He hadn’t moved, still seated without looking at you, and you almost wondered for a second if you’d imagined him speaking; but then he slowly turned his eyes to you, apparently waiting for your answer.
“Why would I be afraid of you? You asked, clutching your book to your stomach and beginning to make your way closer to him. You were just a few feet away from him when he stood. You stopped, but he stepped closer to you, circling you like a vulture.