[Black Widow]

Even the sharpest knives grew dull if over-used, if neglected, if not properly maintained.

In the Red Room, Natasha had been sharpened regularly. Or Natalia had. She'd had handlers and trainers and people who made the calls, people who decided what skill-set she needed to learn next, which she needed to practice more, who she needed to become to get a certain mission done. She was their tool, their weapon, and they made all the calls. When she went in for a medical. When she went out in the field. When she dieted to put on more muscle or lose weight or gain extra curves to entice the next mark. She had been guided, directed, ordered.

In becoming her own person, a tool that only she herself could wield, Natasha had gained control, but lost resources. And that meant that all of her previous team - handlers, trainers, medics, nutritionists, researchers, stylists, owners - now had to be ably represented by just one individual.

Herself.

And yet, alone, no one could accuse Natasha of being complacent or lacking in discipline. Without anyone to direct her, she almost worked harder to keep herself honed and focussed and sharp. Because, here, she was alone. She was her own only back-up, the only person she could rely on, and that meant her survival rested on her own slim shoulders. So, because living was always Natasha's top priority so too was, in a way, ensuring that she remained dangerous still, a weapon of a girl.

Part of that was gym conditioning. Another was keeping tabs on as many information networks as she could, both official and underground, though her continued failure to get anywhere near the CIA irked her more than she cared to admit. Part of it was, surprisingly, maintaining an up to date knowledge of fashion, another a less surprising degree of maintenance work where sustaining and perpetuating her various cover stories went. Finances, politics, the details that went into living multiple lives, plus missions themselves, they all had a part in her routine.

And as for staying dangerous...

It was still odd, coming home to someone. And, if Natasha had chosen to do so, she could have returned to her apartment on the Upper West Side, or any of the other boltholes she had over the city to conduct her post-mission cool down. But, no, it wasn't as if her games and her profession (for they were often one and the same) were a secret she'd kept from the so-called God of Mischief. Even if she didn't bother sharing the specific details of anything and everything she did (both for security and simply because she doubted they'd be relevant to or interest him) they were, as different as they were, like-minded. Call it just another part of her education.

So, one evening (night, really, given the latening hour) it was a blonde woman who let herself into the Brooklyn loft, not one with hair the colour of old blood, who went through the complicated system of locks and subtle traps and signals that went into maintaining her usual level of security on the place (and hadn't teaching Loki the basics of those been fun.) The wig was short and almost boyish, the contacts in her eyes making them green rather than her own half-hearted shade of blue, and the make-up that subtly changed the angles and contours of her face had been applied to make it look as if Natasha hadn't actually been wearing any at all.

After all, when on a job, there was a difference between doing it as the Black Widow and furthering the reputation of the redheaded mercenary, and as someone Natasha did not want linked back to her. Hence the hair, the eyes, the lack of her distinguishing bracelets and belts. Instead, she was dressed in dark clothes - grey combat trousers with all manner of useful pockets, a black tank under a short leather jacket that hid various holsters and sheathes, boots that lacked a heel but were sturdy and steel-toed nonetheless. A professional, yes, but not automatically recognisable as the Black Widow and that had been the point tonight, to scout things out from under an umbrella other than her usual name and reputation.

Once she was sure that her exits were secured to her liking, Natasha actually allowed herself to sigh in a quiet...well, 'relaxing' was not the wrong word. Because people like her, they never quite switched off, never really let go of that last level of watchfulness. But she returned to the default setting that she used in a reasonably secure environment that called her own and that allowed her to scratch idly as she wandered down the hallway towards the main room that served as both kitchen and dining room and living room and, as of late, the bedroom of an alien-viking-god.

"Honey, I'm home," she drawled idly, sarcastically, even as she shucked her leather jacket and tossed it vaguely in the direction of the kitchen island, before starting to fiddle with the edges of the wig. Because, fucking hell, this thing itched.

[Loki]

This was an alteration on a typical theme in the Asgardian’s life, nothing surprising, nothing new in this multitasking. Loki was settled at the table, automatically copying symbol after symbol in a dully repetitive mental cycle. At this point in time, he was no longer paying attention to the letters on the page, instead choosing to commit them to muscle memory rather than painstakingly copy down letter by letter and associate them with the sounds. (Loki had already had enough of that for his entire lifetime, yet he knew it was necessary for understanding, just childish and obnoxious and not at all what the prince called a good time.That usually involved horses.) It was simple. It was repetitive. It was uninteresting, but it was necessary. Loki could hardly claim to be a human without being able to read, and write in their language. Specifically English, but Natasha had mentioned the concept of multiple languages, spoken and written, and Loki had absolutely no patience to deal with more than one thing at a time when there was so much information to be taken in. Could he do it? Yes. Was he going to try? Not with this current headache.

Basic, simple, boring, necessary - which was why Loki was multitasking. Another headache had been the television. Truths and pretenses given in the same form, on the same device. With Natasha’s instruction on which “channels” were for news, and the identification of a particular style given to these “news channels”, Loki was able to pick out which number channel was going to prove worthy to listen to. More than once had he ended up on a channel with a story for entertainment being performed rather than a declaration of the events in the world, and so Loki was a lot more careful of which channel he chose.

Scratchings of pen on paper marked Loki’s own cramped handwriting as he listened to the words coming from the screen, Asgardian tendencies transferring to English letters for something that Loki thought was at least legible. (Surely, Natasha would correct him, in the near future, as that seemed to be what the red-haired Earth liar was for - telling Loki he was successful yet incorrect in the same sentence. But, hey, what else was new?) Pens had been easy enough to pick up. They were ink in a tube, one that would bleed less and was easier to use. Loki certainly preferred it, and the page he was filling up already had a few unimportant Asgardian symbols drawn in the top corner where the trickster god had been absently checking to see if the device was working.

In his own... language? Was it called language still if it was written on paper and not spoken aloud, because surely “Asgardian” and “English” were long lost relatives? In his own script, Loki was elegant and neat and precise. It was the same as he was in everything. A careful, calculating hand could orchestrate the lines on paper, connecting symbol (rune) to symbol just as easily as he could pick out the relationships between people. Words became bonds, sentences became families, groups, common ground, each block of text was a new plot for him to read and write and change as he pleased. ‘

This. This was messy. He could tell that it was messy, perhaps not the writing of a child, but it was not the stylized and uniform script of the newspapers or even of the words on television and on the streets of New York. Loki was not terribly practiced in imitation of script, forgery, as it were. He had no need for any true forgery, when on Asgard a simple trick of sorcery would give you all the credibility required. However, Loki was clever. He could and would figure this out, and it would not take him weeks (the stretch of time which he understood now) to accomplish.

The news was speaking of mutants at the moment, having already passed the topic of the “mutants” Loki was so intimately familiar with in favor of something to do with the government. No one seemed to be happy about the topic, and the humans on the television were arguing rather pointedly with very human phrases. The god had stopped trying to translate when the word “politics” was spoken. It was not that Loki did not wish to attempt to understand such concepts, but instead it was that every time he tried to interpret “politics” he ended up with a headache and more questions than clear answers.

Loki’s intent focus was interrupted by the click of the door, and the god glanced quickly up to watch the hall for whoever had entered. It was not until he noted that it was Natasha who rounded the corner - blonde wig and green eyes fooled Loki for only a second, with her voice being the absolute guarantee of authenticity - that Loki settled back in his seat, shifting from the instinctual tensed state to a more relaxed position. He was uncomfortable with Midgard already, and having a “foreign” woman entering what was his only safehaven on Earth (literally) was certainly unsettling. The shapeshifter was no stranger to disguises (though his were more... practical than Natasha’s), so once he made the connection between Natasha, or Natalia, and disguises, he would be sure to keep an eye out for the woman in forms other than her red-haired state.

Half of a thought was given to the news channel, and what Natasha would think of him listening to it, but thankfully the people on the television were speaking of less interesting things than mutants now. Topics that would hopefully keep Natasha away from guessing his knowledge of the other Asgardians, at least immediately. It was no secret, and the god was positive that the woman knew of the other “aliens”.

Writing was halted in favor of watching Natasha deal with her disguise with an amused look, and Loki was unable to keep quiet about such an entertaining idea in front of him. ”Surely you were not playing pretend for Nolan, so which boyfriend did you see today? I am ever so interested in the name as well. Let me guess, begins with N-A-T?” For an alien, Loki was pretty sarcastic. The benefit and burden of being so clever - you could not help but point out the amusing details.

[Black Widow]

A disguise being good did not make it comfortable. And though, on the job, Natasha was good at ignoring those little niggles of discomfort, of borderline pain, here these was no need to do so. After scratching a little at where the wig cap chafed horrifically against the skin behind her ears - futilely, it must be pointed out - Natasha made a face and started rubbing at where the glue stuck it down over her natural hairline.

Moving as she was, it was important that she didn't pause when she noted how Loki had been occupying himself while she was gone, for reactions were the biggest tell any one person could give. Though, in all fairness, a too-clean lack of reactions could be indicative of falsehood, of deception just as much, and so Natasha was careful enough to toss a casual, almost bored look the switched-on television's way before superficially dismissing it.

Inside her own brain, though, behind false-coloured and false-emotioned eyes, she was far more alert.

She hadn't previously twigged quite how discerning Loki was going to be in television sense, having idly explained the differences between channels aimed to convey fact and those that focussed on fiction (however realistic seeming.) But the proof was here that Loki was indeed a master of making the most of what was available to him. Maybe reading was a slow process, written English being a resource that was as of yet limited to him in its accessibility, but news channel and all the information that they held? That was an entirely different story.

As Natasha prised yet another layer of her disguise away from her true self, she was musing, calculating probabilities inside her head. Had he seen the spots on the other naked individuals - labelled as mutants - who had been appearing in the city? Had he chanced upon their coverage, since they were hardly sweeping stories, more little bit-pieces if they were noted at all?

Had he worked out for himself what she had been sitting on, waiting for the right moment to play that particular card?

Even as she lifted the wig from her head, revealing red hair pinned to her skull in complex if unflattering knots, Natasha was already resigned to this being something that had either already occurred or had not. And discerning which of those two options it was was likely to be difficult - possibly too difficult - given how she suspected he was as veiled as she was when it came to playing hard to get with knowledge. Superficially, they shared a remarkable frankness, more honesty than she supposed either of them were used to, but that was in subjects where it benefited both of them to aid the other. This...this was the first time that either of them could use knowledge like a weapon against the other.

(Natasha might have been amused if she wasn't slightly irked. She'd underestimated him, left a potential vulnerability unconsidered, and that was not like her. And even if she was curious as to how they'd fare if they properly entered into this dance, it was still early days and she knew she wanted to retain the upper hand.)

For now, though, that meant acting normal. Or as normal as an ex-spy co-habiting with her pet Viking God from Space could be. So Natasha just smirked at his pointed words and gave him her best vapid, empty smile, the one that she wore like a shield so much of the time when she used the fact that people tended to underestimate young, small, pretty women to her own advantage. "If Nolan was into playing dress-up, it'd be far more fun being Natalie for him." Knot by knot, Natasha's red hair was liberated - waving frenetically and ruffled after being contained and coiled and flattened for so long. The more she released, the less like some sort of odd mannequin she looked, with the longer strands of hair adding softness to the angles of her head once more.

Maybe it should have concerned her that Loki knew of Nolan, knew of Natalie. It certainly wasn't ideal in a security sense, but then the only ideal was if Natasha herself was the sole owner of the knowledge that some of her guises were purely fictional (though several, Natalie included) actually had more 'real' records than Natasha Romanoff ever would. But she was fairly matter of fact about the so-called God of Mischief being aware of her duplicitous ways because, after all, if ever there was a patron saint of liars and thieves, surely it was him?

(Plus, who was he actually going to tell?)

He did get a droll look and an eyebrow raise for his little jab about her favoured false names (possibly because he had a point) but Natasha just smirked and shook her now fully loose hair down until it fell around her shoulders in at least a parody of neatness. "No names tonight," she said and, in her own turn to be pointed, systematically began to remove some of the weapons concealed around her person. The first gun and its shoulder holster went onto the island, and a bend at waist and knee removed the other from beneath the fall of her trousers at her right ankle. "That wasn't precisely the point today." Her smile was veiled, secretive and, most obviously, amused. "If they were looking close enough to ask me my name, then I was doing it all wrong."

It was automatic to keep her distance (or, more correctly, to keep a too-smart Viking God away from her guns) but with those removed from her person, she felt free to wander closer. Her table seemed to have been turned into a primary school for aliens and her eyes (still green) took in the physical evidence of him practicing his 'Midgardian.' Seeking to improve when it came to necessary skill, she could approve of that. Clinically, at least, for Natasha was hardly anyone that sane people would allow near children if they expected patience and an encouraging learning environment.

"How did class go?" Bare-armed now that her jacket was gone, the two wrist sheathes she wore were glaringly obvious against her pale skin and Natasha moved to unstrap them with careless efficiency, even as she sent him a mocking little grin. Knives he had to be familiar with and she'd already demonstrated proficiency with them on day one, so they were hardly a secret if he already knew how to use them, unlike the guns which they'd already established were not to be found on his world. Her blades, thus, were fine enough to put down on the table across from him, since they conferred no advantage upon him in their proximity. "If you're still having trouble, I'm sure we can go through the alphabet song one more time."

It was just idle teasing, really, for there was a difference between learning a new language in its entirety and knowing how to speak it, but not how to put it down onto paper. The knowledge was there, the important bits at least, it was just the vehicle into which the words were put that was lacking, the specific medium of symbols printed on a page. And Natasha would have been impressed by the sharpness of Loki's mind if she hadn't been too busy cataloguing it instead, extrapolating its strengths, its weaknesses, how long she expected specific tasks to take it...

So, reading? She had no doubt that he'd soon be putting a significant portion of America's adult population to shame. But Natasha prodded, she pushed, she sought chinks in people's armour. More than that, she did it automatically, and not wielding a dry and sharp-edged sort of humour would have been indicative of her wearing some sort of mask or other...

[Loki]

Loki, with the arrival of his “companion”, decidedly turned his chair so that he could still write and watch the woman mill about at the same time. Like Natasha, he gave an idle glance to the television, allowing a look of disinterest to pass across his face instead of any sort of confusion before going back to work. No, Natasha was far too intelligent for Loki to attempt to fool her with confusion. Surely, in the woman’s eyes, he was a threat, as it should be. Perhaps it was arrogant for Loki to assume such, but he gave himself a certain amount of intelligence in the eyes of Natasha and operating under that level of intelligence would be a clear sign of lying. And Loki would not want to be caught in a lie, now did he? (It was bad for his image.)

He continued writing on his paper, paying just as much attention to the letters now as he was earlier. There were more important thoughts taking root in the trickster god’s mind, thoughts that would immediately benefit him more than marks on parchment. Paper, not parchment, Loki corrected himself. So many words for so many things - it was surprising Loki did not make more mistakes than he already did, but then again, he was careful to simply avoid using human phrases when he did not need them. Small statements, questions. Nothing specific, especially when with human strangers. No words that he did not understand. It kept Loki out of trouble in a human world so foreign to “aliens”, and it certainly kept him in a position to continue learning.

It was the interpretation of words, of actions that benefitted Loki more than anything else. Take Natasha, for instance.

Knives went on the table in front of the trickster god, openly and honestly (as honest as a liar could be). A declaration of war, it was not. An attempt to threaten, to remind the Asgardian that Natasha was perfectly capable of - what was it? - “kicking his Viking god ass”? Or has she said “Norse god ass”? Loki was good with particulars, but not that good, and he just assumed that it did not really matter. That instance was likely, since the woman had shown an ability with knives from the first day, and the simple fact that her blades had been hidden at the wrist for easy access was a sign that she was more than just proficient.

Knives went on the table, but the other weapons? What Loki could only assume to be guns were placed far away from the Asgardian. (Guns and knives being Loki’s knowledge of current Midgardian weapons.) Out of reach, but not out of sight. This was noted with a glance, but no prolonged stare, no lengthy perusal. You know, for someone who needed to wear knives and guns and disguises out on the street, Natasha definitely lacked weaponry around the apartment. The knives on the table were not the food knives, and certainly Loki had met no guns around the dwelling. So where did these weapons reside? And why did such a charming little liar need to carry so much weaponry? What enemies did she have, in this supposedly peaceful world?

All questions to be answered.

A quick analysis of Natasha’s words led Loki to believe that playing pretend - what Loki was implying as a childish game, and what Loki basically performed his entire life - was the same thing as playing “dress-up”, which could only mean what it sounded. Doing that for your boyfriend (whatever term you wanted to use, there was still bedding involved along the way), well, shapeshifter Loki could understand the connotations there. Besides, Nolan seemed dreadfully boring, and Loki would not give him the benefit of the doubt for exhaustion. A man who would easily put up with what Loki saw of “Natalie” had to be uninteresting.

Hrm, no name was needed? Well, those were often the best ruses, as Loki understood. Adding the earlier notice of so many weapons only meant that Natasha had been playing games with some tricky company. It was likely that her eye was cast in a place it should not have been, watching people she was not supposed to know of. Thus, the need for weapons. The disguise was interesting in Loki’s point of view. Less so for the hair, and more so for the eye color. He watched when Natasha came close enough, showing a touch of confusion where confusion was due. Eye color was not something you changed with a disguise on Asgard, and Loki did not know of any sorcery or mutant or any science or technology that could do so. It was interesting, yes, but unimportant. Besides, if he was really keen on knowing the answer, he could ask.

The commentary about class and the alphabet song - something Loki had already expressed his dislike for in great detail - was met with an unamused look. No, he did not desire to hear that halfwitted melody again, and he did not need to hear it again. He was content to write as best he could and translate letter for letter until Loki understood the language. Natasha was more than welcome to try the same for his script, and Loki would have bet on the odds for how well she fared. Oh, now that was a thought.

A plan quickly hatched in Loki’s mind, the seed growing into a fully formed thing as quickly as it had been planted, roots digging deep until they cracked the rock below and exposed another thought. Oh, now that was an idea. God of mischief was Loki’s calling, and that was for an excellent reason. Quickly the Asgardian flipped one paper over to a blank side, intentionally and purposefully slowing his writing down so that it was... what was expected of an alien learning a written language for the first time and not the quickly memorized code that Loki knew. He wrote the name “Luke Walker” in English, painstakingly precise, and then put the rough equivalent of an Asgardian symbol below it. It was not perfect, but Loki was playing a game, not teaching a language. Then, making an even bigger show of his need to think than was really true, Loki wrote down “New York America” and “Earth” with more relative marks.

Below those lines, he then made a string of Asgardian symbols, turning the paper around and placing the pen on top of it before looking up at Natasha. ”Your turn, unless you have other games to play.” That statement was by all means a challenge. Loki did not even try to make it neutral - he wanted the woman to play along with his game, because if she did not, then where was he going to have fun? (Surely not with the rest of humanity.)

[Black Widow]

Loki gave nothing away verbally by, rather simply, not saying anything at all. In a comfortable setting, though, Natasha - in stark contrast - tended to shroud emptiness with words, to use many of them without actually giving anything away. The words were like veils, like smokescreens, misleading and hardly guiding, a will-o'-the-wisp trail that you could follow or not and then spend forever guessing and second-guessing at.

For the most part, it was just that she was only a purely silent creature when entirely focussed. When wordlessness was necessary. Natalia had talked little, close-mouthed and stony-eyed and ice-hearted that she had been. Little robot girl. Little weapon. Little guided missile. All of them lovely pet names from her trainers.

But as she'd grown, she may not have become any less forged-steel hard, but Natalia--Natasha learned to enjoy what she did. And all emotion may have transient and inconsequential in comparison to getting the job done, but Natasha was both more languid and mocking and sharper than she'd been completely under the KGB's control, or what had remained of the group.

Lucky Loki.

It was automatic now, the way she tended to her weapons. Even if she hadn't used them, a professional was only as good as her tools. If one of those was her own body then she was going to work to keep herself honed, and the same applied to her knives. Almost absently (but still with a deftness that spoke of long, long familiarity and a capability that transcended conscious thought and went straight into muscle memory) Natasha started to remove each of them from their sheathes in turn, testing the edges and inspecting the blades for wear or tear, dust or dirt, polishing both visible and invisible marks away.

But her real attention? That was for Loki and what lay on the papers in front of him. What he was doing with his hands and his pen now. What made one of Natasha's brows arch curiously up, her intention focussing, like sunlight concentrated down via a magnifying glass.

She'd showed him the symbols to express himself in English. Now, apparently, he was going the same with her, with the written language of his people. Except Natasha was quick to realise that he was hardly giving her a solid, structured framework from which to work, given that she had taught him the alphabet (song and all, and he should just be grateful that it wasn't the Cyrillic version.) He was giving her a puzzle, one designed to have holes in it that she'd need to fill, elements that she'd need to rearrange and it wasn't that she wasn't itching to put the blade of her mind to this particular whetstone, but rather the principle of it.

She expressed her sentiments towards that 'principle' by making a face at him, but her hands put aside her knives and reached eagerly enough for the paper he'd presented her with and one of the spare pens. Not that, of course, he could escape entirely uncommented upon with that show of wickedness, that element of challenge.

"I'm perfectly capable of multi-tasking," Natasha pointed out, tucking long hair over her shoulders and behind her ears so that she could bend her head a little over the puzzle she was presented with, glancing sideways at him. "A game for you as well then. A simple one. I'll trade you a 'fact' about you or your people that Earth people believe for you telling me if it's true or not."

She had been doing her research after all.

[Loki]

A practiced air was around Natasha as she dealt with her weapons. Loki understood what it meant to take care of your weapons, cleaning and sharpening and dealing with the object that you trusted with your life, making sure that all was perfect. Princes of Asgard were not exempt to this idea, especially in his society. Though Loki depended heavily on his illusions, his sorcery, only unnecessarily messy (and distasteful) shapeshifting magic was a magic that did not require weapons. He could do it. He had done it before, but Loki was a man of words, not brutish force. Claiming a life, animal or human, with teeth and claws was even worse than using a hammer or a blade. At least as a warrior, you fought with weapons as your tools, not your own body. Entirely undesirable.

However, it told Loki the answer to the question he had been repeatedly asking himself. If Natasha was not a soldier, was not a civilian, not a police officer, not anything defined thus far, then what was she? A deceiver, yes, but simple liars did not need that much weaponry to go about and do their trade. Stepping out onto the streets and gathering information was all a deceiver needed, but Natasha was more. She was, in Loki’s mind, somewhere between a deceiver and a scout and a warrior. A warrior of her own making, not a warrior of the government. Not a soldier.

She was of the same rogue class that the mutants belonged to, but not the same. Loki understood that these mutants - though he had yet to meet one - were substantially different. They had magic. “Magic”. Some sort of foreign science that did not belong to the normal human world, which screamed magic to Loki. Natasha had no sorcery that she had shown to Loki (though he was not dismissive of the idea), but she was not the average human. It made her an outsider, as much as the mutants if at all possible, but Natasha was a deceiver and therefore able to blend in and survive and prosper.

A deceiver with only herself, a scout without an army, a soldier without a government. Loki approved.

He also approved in the definite interest. It would have taken a blind man to miss how Natasha was taking note of what Loki was writing, and the aspect of a challenge, the aspect of a game to play? Well, let’s just say Loki had a vested interest in anything Natasha thought was a challenge. He looked at the Earth woman carefully for a moment, quietly thinking in that split second, before smirking and smiling up at her. ”I accept.”

This could be prove to be interesting, and more worthwhile than anything Loki was currently doing. (He was still halfheartedly listening to the news, but no words the god was interested in had come up in conversation.) A fact of information about his people from the human perspective? That would be useful in more than one way - he could find out more about what Midgard thought about the gods, and at the same time, he could see what Natasha thought was... important in his “culture”.

[Black Widow]

His acceptance was simple.

The puzzle he'd put before her...less so.

Natasha was no linguistics expert. She spoke multiple languages, yes, but that was practical. Useful. More than that, it had been something she'd been told she had to learn and so she had, for one did not question the curriculum of the Red Room, not if one had already learned the most important lesson which was that everything set before the students in that place was necessary. And all of them related back to human concepts, Earth concepts, helped by the fact that she couldn't remember actively learning either Roman or Cyrillic alphabets.

As for code-breaking...well, it wasn't her forte. She knew the regular ones and had at least some practice with discerning cyphers, but it had always been her job to steal the code, to steal the key, not to actively solve it herself. That had been the job of the analysts back in Russia once she returned to them, obedient and useful, and was just one of the other benefits of working with a team.

So at least she wasn't naive enough to believe that it would be as simple as a substitute code, in which there was one of these odd, spiky symbols for each of the twenty-six letters in the English alphabet. That would be too easy. Implausibly easy. And, besides, the words he'd chosen didn't even span the entirety of the English alphabet - it certainly wasn't 'the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.'

(Natasha wasn't surprised that he wasn't making it easy for her. After all, this was about challenge, about knowledge, about the superiority conferred on one of them by showing that they knew more. So, maybe, it was going to be fun.)

But even as she studied the puzzle, testing it with the edges of her intellect, her cunning, Loki still had some portion of her attention. After all, nowhere in Norse mythology had anyone ever said that they were aliens, nor quite so human-looking, and Natasha was curious as to what was true, what was merely based on truth and warped by the years and creative minds, and what was pure nonsense. Researching 'Loki' and the other gods of Norse mythology had been...colourful to say the least. Certainly more interesting to read in bed at night than the Bible, that was for sure.

So. Question one.

"We'll start with an easy one then." Natasha eyed him with brief, wicked amusement through a fall of red hair before returning her gaze to the paper. There were some repeating symbols there, ones that she thought linked vaguely to phonetic similarities within the words he'd written in English. Maybe if she focussed on vowel sounds... "Marital status. The mythology has you down as being married to a nymph Goddess, Sigyn." Actually, vowels proved to be less telling than the rune-thing she was certain stood for the roll of an r. And if that one was that particularly intonation of 'a', plus some rather creative and open-minded shuffling of the sounds and letters in her head...

She got 'Park' first and then it was intuitive enough to work out what 'Central' was, based on that 'r' rune and the 'a', yes, but more on logic tan anything else given his knowledge of the city and what he was likely to pick. Natasha wrote her guess down - taking care to make her handwriting less slanted and almost conversational than usual for his unpracticed eyes - and slid it towards him with a question in her eyes. The question on her tongue though was still in reference to the game that she'd proposed. "True or false?"

[Loki]

There was one thing to be said about trickster gods over the centuries - they liked games. The Edda suggests that Loki bet his head that one group of dwarves could not make more beautiful items than another, and from this many items of great worth were forged, Mjolnir being one of them. Spider Ananse captured others with his trickery to trade with the Sky-god for the stories of the world, tying Python to a tree when the vain snake said he was longer than it and tried to prove it, catching Leopard in the web he used as a rope to free the animal from the hole Ananse dug, capturing the Hornets in a calabash after making them think it was raining and they needed shelter, and catching the Dwarf with a doll made of sticky gum. Then there is Coyote, and Raven, and Maui, and Iktomi, and many, many more. Even simple stories had their tricksters - Brer Rabbit being an alteration of Spider Ananse and other folklore. Robin Goodfellow, a personification of the mischievous fae of lore. Modern stories brought the anti-heroes to light, beings who were not bad, but were not good, and only looked out for themselves. All and all, it was a challenge that riled the trickster gods, a challenge with a reward. Something to prove.

Natasha could solve his puzzle. Loki knew that she could. It was guaranteed, because he had written it that way. There was no going back from this challenge, and Loki would make it difficult to give up, if Natasha even leaned in that direction. (She would not, but it always served to be prepared.) He wanted her to solve it, and because of this, he was willing to pull a few strings if the code was too difficult.

It would later prove to be easy enough, but forgive Loki for being relatively distracted.

There was an immediate look of irritation that showed on Loki’s face, and he narrowed his eyes at the Earth woman before he spoke, less censure in his voice and words than before. ”Surely this be a jest.” The trickster god quickly caught himself and adjusted his wording to fit the Midgardian fashion instead of the automatic “Shakespearian” style he fell into. He never stopped watching Natasha with an unamused expression, slowly coming to the realization that she was not joking. Brilliant. ”No, that is false.”

A sort of grim look passed across Loki’s face before he returned to neutral, pulling the paper towards him as he did. ”I find it remarkable that your people can accurately record the creation of Sleipnir, but somehow confuse marriages of gods.” He turned his attention to the paper, reading the correct words that Natasha had interpreted and giving her another to try. This line was longer, and Loki took more time to write down the Asgardian symbols. He would not admit it, but the spelling of the phrase was proving to be difficult. The trickster god made due with what he could, and then gave the paper back to Natasha.

[Black Widow]

Drawing emotion - like drawing blood - showed that a blow had hit home. And even if Natasha's words had been a question - part of their game - and not an attack...well, that response was both immediate and telling.

Her sharp, intense gaze catalogued it all, the way his features jolted into irritation, the patterns of a particular expression upon his face. She'd seen him irked before - sometimes at her, more often at some aspect of Earth culture that he found troublesome or displeasing - but this, she felt, was swifter, more personal.

And that made sense. Because she was speaking both of his reputation and, possibly, of what his life was like on this planet that he called Asgard. And Natasha could understand only approving of warped facts and details when you had decided that it would be such. If this wasn't true (and, frankly, she doubted a lot of the historical accuracy of so-called myths and legends where alien-Gods were concerned, even if they'd got the horse right) then it was his life and his reputation and his relationships that they were getting wrong.

It probably shouldn't have been that amusing. (And yet it was.)

He just looked so...affronted that Natasha had to snort, irreverent and unladylike and not the slightest bit apologetic. After all, it wasn't she who'd made a lie up this time. (For once.)

She stared him down with her own element of quiet glee to her expression, the subtle delight of a woman who wasn't necessarily malicious, but could see the funny side of a situation that was uncomfortable for someone else nonetheless. "Disappointed that you're not getting as much action as your fictional self?" she asked with a chuckle, because being delicate and subtle and tactful was always a choice with her and where on earth was the fun in being that now? "She's awfully devoted to you in the legends. It's almost sweet."

But, okay, she probably shouldn't push her luck. Not with her first question. Not when she'd already stumbled across something that made him look almost peevish. So Natasha contained herself (and her amusement) and made a show of frowning down at the next puzzle. She could learn from the last one, bring her working forward, but she couldn't assume that she'd cracked the pattern just yet, not when she only had possible pieces and...hmmm.

"Are you married then?" Natasha asked, persistent in that sense at least. Mainly because the notion of monogamy and fidelity and, ahem, parentage was an interesting one to her where other cultures were concerned. "Because the legends say you have four children - Sleipnir, I knew about, but Fenrir, Hel and--" Her tongue stumbled a little over her first attempt at the serpent's name and she made a face before trying again. "--Jörmungandr?" Her expression went a little more careful as she tried to decide how to phrase that as the 'fact' that was part of the game. "That you have children and none of them are particularly...welcome amongst the rest of your people. True or false?"

And the puzzle was giving her some problem - partly because of a certain amount of confusion about how she was meant to work out the various 'c' sounds and how they coincided with a harder 'k', but also because she was paying Loki rather more attention than the translation game.

For once, she was okay with being a tad slow. He was more interesting, after all. Because she'd seen drawings of the rest of his supposed kids and she'd have scoffed them away, if he hadn't already confirmed the horse one...

[Loki]

Another mistake, and this one was Loki’s own fault. He should have predicted that Natasha’s questions were not going to be easy, given her track record with playing nice. (Loki still remembered the vodka incident, and he was not terribly keen to get caught in that web once again.) The trickster god should have also gone into this game with more thought instead of arrogance. Games were entertaining, yes, but he failed to remember that this game Natasha played had razor edges and sharp corners, just like his own. A failure of this kind could be his downfall, but luckily this was only a game and nothing more. Except the hunt for information, but that was constant. That was not going to change any time soon.

To be married? To Sigyn? Who was apparently a nymph Goddess? The concept of marriage in and of itself required that Loki have a heart, or at least that someone forced Loki to play the game and pretend he cared for the average Asgardian female for more than just the simple pleasure. And even then, Loki was hardly swayed as easily as most. There was no doubting that he was swayed, but Loki thought about his actions, he worked on logic rather than instinct, calculation rather than haste. And Sigyn? He barely knew the woman at all, only in passing and the recognition of a questionable interest from the woman.

Oh, that was an unpleasant thought. Loki had only come to the realization that Sigyn held some kind of interest in him within the last span or two, so how did Midgard manage to get that one concept right, but out of proportion? How long had Loki been blind to that information when many spans ago the humans saw it? The trickster god Twanted to rub the bridge of his nose in exasperation, hoping to relieve the irritation and disappointment in both himself and the human race. (He was not even going to touch the nymph part.) That, however, would be another display of weakness, and Loki was keen to keep up whatever composure he had.

There were other Asgardians on Earth, of that Loki was certain, and he was only a few careful internet searches away from finding out who, he suspected. But that required access to the tablet and privacy, and neither were available. At least, not with Natasha entertaining herself with his discomfort right across the table. What did their “mythology” have to say about the other gods? He could not possibly be the only one with false information attached to his name. Loki shook himself internally, not disturbed, per say, but concerned with what new destruction the human lore could add to his already questionable reputation. He spoke to Natasha again in his neutral yet judgmental tone, watching the paper absentmindedly. ”Why? Are you concerned?” That comment was finished and Loki had moved onto the next part without so much as a second thought. It was automatic sarcasm, but the next statement was important. ”What might be amusing to you is what you call “politics” for me.”

He was still staring at the paper when Natasha asked the next question, picking apart what he knew of Midgard and how that would affect the rule of Odin and his subjects. There was a thought spared for wondering who Thor was supposedly married to, but it was passing as well. His attention returned to the woman in a moment, actually focusing on her question with the calculating look returning to his eye. “Politics” could wait. ”That is two statements.” Here, Loki wrinkled up his face briefly in a sarcastic little gesture that said “oh, but I’ll humor you, silly Midgardian”, amusement slipping back into that strange honesty between the two liars.

”I am not married, nor am I of age to be married without scorn.” He paused, weighing information before deciding that his particular tidbit was of little use to Natasha for anything devious. ”It would not be... appropriate if I were to wed before my brother, who is elder.” Not that Loki particularly wanted to get married at this point in his life. The large majority of Asgardian women were substantially less... quick than he, and Loki hardly had the patience for those he considered his equals on any ground. ”My-” There was a flicker of hesitancy here, because Loki never called his offspring children in any sort of company. It was true, they were his children, but they were not acceptable to the Asgardians. Had he any true Asgardian children, Loki would have altered the rights of the elder son in a way that was not proper, but these were... monsters, and they did not count. They were Loki's little jaunts, another childish game of the trickster god. Nothing to be respected. Nothing to be seen as a being with an equal right.

He continued quickly enough, falling into a toneless and flat explanation to counteract his faltering from before. ”My children are indeed Sleipnir, the eight-legged stallion whom my father has claimed for a steed; Fenrir, Fenrisúlfr, the fenris wolf, known as Vánagandr, monster of the river Ván; Hel, who was appointed to receive the dead by Odin; and Jörmungandr, the world serpent, who Thor is not terribly fond of.” Loki paused before passing a rather exasperated look toward Natasha, intentional for all that it was revealing. ”Do I still need to say true or false?” Yes, it was a lot of information to be simply giving this Earth woman, but Loki once again deemed this information uninteresting, for all that his children were still in Asgard.

[Black Widow]

Her response to that particular gem was, perhaps unflatteringly, a roll of her blue-grey eyes and an 'oh, please' look. It was half-hearted though for, whatever barbs they threw each other's way, they both knew they were petty. Shallow. Not even wounds or attacks, because she had a feeling that if they ever really did start looking to hurt each other they would succeed. These were just questions between two people prone to lying who, for once, had found a certain amount of honesty to be beneficial.

It was hardly personal for them.

"I just wondered whether you'd left your wedding ring with, oh, all of your clothes when you arrived here," she said dryly. But that was interesting in itself, she realised, the recognition of marriage, of the word. Maybe the ring crack would go over his head, but that still said something about him and his people.

As for her own personal interest in Loki, well, at least she could say her intentions were pure where his body was concerned. Was it cliched to say that she liked him for his mind and...other qualities? Probably not, actually, since Natasha didn't actually like people, she just preferred useful ones. And Loki certainly fit into that category, just by existing and showing signs of (probably temporary) compliance. The rest of it was irrelevant, however human he was. Everything tended to be irrelevant in the face of Natasha getting what she wanted out of a mark.

She might have been concerned if she'd thought him being attached to someone would have any impact on how she dealt with him. Maybe she could have played on him longing to get back to a wife (or partner) but even if he had been single (as he was) Natasha had a strong suspicion that her usual wiles would have been useless. He did not seem to be a base creature, driven by instinct, and she sensed that he (like herself) had concerns and goals that transcended anything as petty as, well, sex and what went along with it. Sex was a trick she used on weak targets, who would be swayed by full hips and lowered eyelashes and the glide of skin along skin. Sex was one of her tools like anything else and a very specific type fell for it.

Loki would not be one of those and so she did not consider it.

Politics though...that sharpened her interest again and she didn't bother hiding it too much. If he'd chosen the word, then he knew its significance. Possibly. Because only important people mattered in that game, at that level, and that was another question she'd been wanting to phrase as a true-false statement - that, even if all of his people were considered 'Gods' on Earth, how important was he actually? And she may not have had a true understanding of just where he stood among his people, but if his 'marriage' (or lack of one) or his children were considered politics...

That was good to know. Important to know. Because Loki may not have been her hostage, not precisely, but that was because he'd been effectively trapped here by forces that were far more effective gaolers than Natasha herself. It was all semantics though because had she known who she was, had she known how important he was and he had not been trapped here...she would have tried to make it so anyway.

But this was easier. A partnership born out of necessity and making the best out of a bad situation. She offered him necessary resources such as food and housing, an identity and local knowledge. And he...he offered her fascinating insight into a race that came out of legend and was even more than the humans of old had made them out to be. She was learning more about him and them from this little game - such as a vague and growing concept of their maturity and age-related customs, for he looked older than her in Midgardian years and was yet still considered too young to be married. As for that little tidbit.

Natasha actually let herself look a tad bemused at the talk of a brother. Hierarchy in a family, between siblings, that she understood. But...brother? "You're a younger sibling," she said carefully, with a certain amount of (for her) gentle and casual amusement, but her eyes conveyed a certain extra degree of curiosity. "You weren't described as having an elder brother." (And maybe that was a flaw in Natasha's research, passingly casual as it had been from a book she'd downloaded to her tablet, but that was her own mistake.) As it was...she wondered, with that horrible knack she had for putting little, bitter comments together and piecing together the sore spots a person had (it was her job after all) whether being a younger sibling conveyed the same psychological consequences that it often did on Earth. To her, it explained more than it didn't. And that...that was almost a little disappointing actually. Not in Loki himself, no, but in his people. Because, as far as alien-Vikings went, he wasn't bad. She could have certainly done worse in who she'd first come across naked, that was for sure.

And he wasn't precisely awful to have around either. In his own way he was fun. And amusing. More than that, he was the first person who'd challenged her in more years than she cared to count, and definitely the first ever to so continually surprise her with his quickness, his keenness, the way he still managed to occasionally turn the tables on her even when he was nominally the vulnerable party here. So, even though she hardly worked in such human ways as 'like' or 'dislike', no, Natasha did not dislike having Loki around. She did not dislike him.

So there was an issue here, something dark and shadowed beneath the still water. Her blackmailer's nose could smell it. But Natasha rarely prematurely pushed an advantage and so she retreated from that with just a briefly considering look sent his way before she let her gaze slip back down to the runic puzzle before her. There was a hard consonant sound in the first word that she was sure was at the end of park, so she pencilled that in. And then once the vowel sounds she thought she had down were added, given the fact that he'd already listed one place in New York...

Natasha grinned, because linguistics may not have been her strong point, but working out what people might do? That she was good at. So even as she wrote 'Rockefeller Center' beneath his runes, she circled an area that she thought was possibly erroneous (and which was responsible for throwing her off her game for a moment there) and circled the paper back to him, only to get an impending sense of the change of mood.

It was inexplicable and unexpected and dangerous and unwanted, the sudden urge Natasha had to press a hand to her stomach, over the secret space within her that had once been responsible for her only act of creation. She was a thing of destruction and damage, a weapon in a girl's body, a wolf-child let loose on the world.

And yet, once...

This wasn't about her. This was about Loki and his people and the mess that humans had made of understanding Asgardians, aside from the parts that they had bitterly and cruelly got right. This was about trying to work out just how much distance Natasha could guess came between Loki and his people because of this...attitude towards his children and whether she could use it to her advantage - if there was resentment between them then maybe she didn't need to be quite so worried about the other Asgardians on earth. And that made even more sense if he'd seen signs of them himself and still hadn't left her to try and find them.

But there was a curious sense of...well, something within Natasha. And it puzzled her because she could feign most emotions - beautifully and precisely and convincingly - and yet this one, in herself, she was finding it difficult to name. Because it was wistful and a little bit sad, protective and somewhat angry in an aimless sort of way, since she too had had a child taken away from her.

And Loki had had four.

So, no, she didn't know precisely what Asgardian attitudes towards parenthood were like. For all she knew, this was normal. But the look on his face, the flat tone, that hesitation from before...it was her job to process these things, to follow the winding roots to the base of the tree, and Loki may have been a subtle person, but this was almost like a human shouting their feelings from a rooftop.

Did he need to say true or false? No. Because his behaviour said it for him and, even as Natasha was handed another potential weapon, another piece of the puzzle, she felt herself strangle loath to push it any further. And it wasn't sentimentality, it was just...

Well, everyone had their weak spots. And Natasha had dealt with people losing children before. Had often been the cause of that, because she was ruthless like that. But it was the existing parallels between her and Loki that maybe was responsible for his flat bitterness actually touching her rather than her just filing it away, clinical and uninterested.

(She did not touch her stomach - she was too controlled for that, too disciplined to let her body do anything without permission - but the desire to do so was still there and it was telling.)

"I'll take your word for it." To all appearances, she was her usual languid and mocking self, dismissive even when she was paying attention, as was her way. But there was a certain lack of sharp edges to the way that she allowed the conversation to move onwards, shepherding it away from this...this subject. The one that had had a curious impact on her as well as him. "So, there's a Thor. God of Thunder and hammer-swinging, true or false?"

That was a question not about Loki himself. And it wasn't kindness that drove Natasha to give him a break, just common sense. Not pushing him too hard. Not making him resentful of the information he was being forced to comment on. It was standard intelligence tactics, really, just an approach that was sensible and likely to get better results than being too demanding too early on.

(None of this was forgotten, though. It never was.)

[Loki]

Loki was actually unsure of himself this time. He knew what he remembered of the creatures he called offspring, but Loki was careful not to trust tainted memories for good information. A god that was so familiar with lying knew that the truths in a mind were often colored by experience and where one thing had happened, another might have been just as true. It was so many spans ago that Sleipnir came into existence, that Loki tried to help the Asgardians and keep them from losing what was vital to their world, but, even in success, there was failure. A prince of Asgard was not expected to have a horse-child, and he was not allowed to continue playing any longer when there was work to be done, when Loki had responsibilities. The same could be said for his three remaining children - who expected the unexpected? The reactions were the same. Loki was strange and irresponsible and immature for his actions, and these creatures were not to be dealt with by Loki, simply because he was a prince and those did not raise children, let alone monsters.

That concept, Loki remembered, but it was the exact actions of the Asgardians that he questioned. Sleipnir had been taken to be raised by a stable hand and a lucky mare, and when Hel, Fenrir, and Jormungandr came along, they were... not dealt with at all? That was where Loki’s memory was fuzzy. He had been distracted by duties and training and courtly ordeals that were apparently “necessary”, and so he did not know what had been done to them. Later, of course, later, Loki was aware that they still existed, that they were alive, but long before had he stepped away from any connection with his children, learning the hard lesson the first time with Sleipnir and hardening what heart was there.

Loki ignored the creatures, choosing only to associate with their names and not his relationship to them. It was easier for everybody, as the Asgardians were not terribly keen on discussing the link between prince Loki and the creatures, and Loki felt it was easier to simply step away. Sleipnir (and here it was more difficult, as Odin had chosen the beast as his steed) and Hel and Fenrir and Jormungandr were alive, and that was all that mattered. They could take care of themselves, monsters that they were. He did not speak of his children, and neither did the Asgardians. It was hardly interesting conversation, as there were greater conquests to speak of than some other strangeness by Loki.

And so, Natasha’s questions, sudden and unexpected, had taken an unusual turn. Loki was not surprised, as Natasha exhibited a knowledge of Sleipnir, and the rest were only good research away, he assumed, but he was... affected. For all that the Asgardians ignored his children, for all that Loki ignored his children, Natasha felt that was the question that needed clarification, not some description of weapons or magic or powerful relationships. It may not have touched on any of Natasha, Natalia’s issues, but it was telling in the way that Loki knew she was searching to find out his history, his background, his associations. The god understood and approved of such efforts, as without any interaction with Asgardians themselves to tell the tale, Natasha only had her own knowledge and that which Loki gave her.

What did the woman know? Loki, God of Mischief, Odin’s son. He could guess that the particular relationship he had with the Asgardians was clearer as they went (and Loki had done nothing to shroud his distaste for the others in his last explanation, because a lack of tone still meant something). That he had magic, but none on Earth. That he was a warrior and not a warrior at the same time. That he was unmarried, and that he had children that were not children. That he was stuck here on Midgard until he found some magic to take him to Asgard.

Loki did find it rather fascinating that, of everything she knew, his relationship with Thor was not noted. She was, not surprised, but interested in the fact that he had a brother, which meant either the woman had not made the connection between Thor Odinson and Loki Odinson, or that the lore here was different. Now, that was a piece of information Loki was interested in, and he watched the woman thoughtfully before continuing. ”My brother and I are not easily compared.” And that was all he said for now. If the lore of Earth neglected to mention Thor as Loki’s brother, then who was Thor? Surely, he was still a Son of Odin, because even spans ago Thor was still incredibly proud of his heritage and not at all subtle. So, wait, what did that make Loki? An idle thought of irritation was given to the idea that he was not a prince of Asgard in these stories, that he was not considered an equal to his brother once again, but Loki put out that fire of indignation very quickly. There was no need for (more) trifling emotions when this was a hunt for information.

The god busied himself instead with the next challenge for Natasha, turning the paper back toward himself and tapping the pen on the surface before getting back to his game. More symbols for a clever opponent, and Loki hardly thought this guess was going to be terribly difficult for Natasha to figure out. There was only one anomaly, but the rest of the symbols were easy enough to decipher. He spared a moment to read over the words he had chosen before turning the paper back to Natasha and relinquishing the pen. Central Park. Rockefeller Center. Tourist locations in New York, nothing special. For an alien just learning about this world, it was a natural list of related words. But then it wasn’t, and, well, Natasha may or may not come to that conclusion. The next puzzle was waiting.

It was noted how Natasha moved from the first marriage comment to the brother comment, passing over any mention of children (since there were fairly obvious notes that could have been made about Loki and his offspring) in favor of returning to the brother idea without, seemingly, knowing she was doing so. Loki had mentioned Thor, and it was natural for the woman to pick up on him, but he wondered what information he should give her. Being honest was a strange thing for Loki, and he debating answering the question in brief, but there was a chance here that Loki wanted to use.

Natasha would find out about the other Asgardians. There was no doubt about that, and Loki knew that if she could, she would try and get as much information from them as she was able. He was expecting it, he was almost relying on this fact, and part of him wanted to use her curiosity as a method of gathering information that did not force Loki to deal with the Asgardians himself. (There were dreadfully dull, and if they were having equal issues as the trickster god was, well, he did not want to have to explain television or plumbing or really anything Natasha had already gone through.)

She would find out about the Asgardians, and Loki knew that the others were not as close lipped as he was. Natasha would find a way to ask about Loki, about those Norse gods she was aware of, and then all of his attempts at avoiding the topic that he was not only a alien Viking Norse god, but a royal alien Viking Norse god would go out the window. Later, rather than sooner? Sooner, rather than later? It was a decision Loki had to make, but he would see how the woman reacted to another bait of information first. Then, if the opportunity was provided, he would present her with that news. Hopefully she would react better to that than the alien god event.

As for Thor, god of thunder, hammer-swinging and everything? ”True. Thor is an Asgardian.” A dreadfully optimistic and naive Asgardian, a destruction prone force of nature, a true and noble warrior of Asgard, but Thor nonetheless. Here Loki quirked his mouth, smile less devious than it was simple habit at the intentional revelation of information (which was so rare on Asgard for the trickster god, but so common on Midgard, strange). ”He is my elder brother.” Yes, this was new information for Natasha, evidently, but Loki would rather her know from him and him alone than find out later from another Asgardian. There was something given here, perhaps “trust” in it’s fickle form, but if he left it for Natasha to find out from another? Especially considering it was such an important part of the god’s existence (as Thor defined Loki as much as Loki defined Thor, in an unnecessary juxtaposition of those who should be equals) - that would create less of this “trust”. Loki was a collector of information, lies, and odd relationships, and it would not do to lose Natasha’s.

[Black Widow]

There were turning points in life.

The irony was that the moment when trained agents realised these existed was in fact a turning point in their career. Because it signified the moment when they went from only being able to do things by the book to being operatives who could adapt to changes in the plan, deviances, unexpected scenarios. They could be more inventive, more independent and it represented the moment when they became trusted to think on their own even as they operated towards the greater good.

Loki himself had been a deviance (was probably deviant if Natasha was honest and practical) but this in itself was yet another turning point within its own anomaly and just...Natasha called it the flux. The moment in which she hung, seemingly timeless in spite of the pressing demands of reality and what was in actuality an extremely short deadline, facing the knowledge that she had a decision to make. Probabilities forked and, quickly, she had to set her mind to deciding which would be the best one to take.

Part of it was about calculations. Probabilities. Logistics. What was most likely, what would probably have the greatest chance of success, what had the chance for the greatest profit, with the last two not always being the same thing. But, also (and this was something Natasha had not truly appreciated until she was her own agent and entirely reliant on just her own skills) it was also sometimes about what your trained, practiced, experienced gut instinct told you.

This was one of the moments. And, as with all forks in the road, one was taken and one was not.

The decision manifested itself in the way that - for ten very exact heartbeats (practically an aeon where Natasha was concerned, at least in terms of decision-making time) she looked at him, intense and sharp and not really appraising this time, rather just undecided. And, for once, she allowed that to show on her face because what was the point in hiding this? Loki had just proved one of the supposedly more solid 'facts' of her research wrong and, like chemical reactions, there was a cascade. Implication after implication, consequence after consequence, a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake after being thrown, sending ripples out to change the short-term features of that little world, but also representing a permanent shift in the state of things.

This knowledge represented a shift in the game and Natasha had never been foolish enough to ignore those. Game-changers were important. Game-changers were that upon which victory and failure could balance, as if on a knife's blade.

And Natasha knew knives.

So it was with her usual silent swiftness that Natasha broke into motion, without warning, without explanation. She answered to no one and it certainly didn't occur to her to give any warning as to what she was about to do, any indication that she might be coming back as she put aside her unsolved puzzle (ignored in the face of this particular and pivotal moment) stood up and disappeared into the relative sanctuary of her bedroom, all dark cloth and pale skin and hair the colour of a blood red sunset.

A minute later, maybe less, and she was back, the delicate shell of her open laptop cradled in her arms before she placed it in front of him, shoulder jostling his as she carelessly hid his previous work from view by putting the computer down on the flat surface. The crystal screen was already open, various windows crowding its surface. One still image was of a strong looking, dark-haired man on a street Natasha recognised as museum mile from the tiny glimpses of architecture she could see in it, though the photo itself was clearly unprofessional and focussed instead on the man's taciturn, moustachioed face and obviously bare chest. Another window was split between a photo clearly taken from a phone that was far more interested in the full length spread of a dark-haired, naked woman looking belligerent in the neon glow of Times Square, while a grainy video on youtube was less clear, but similar enough in setting to suggest that the moving figure socking another one in the face and then bounding away was the same statuesque woman. The last was an online blogging article, smaller thumbnails hinting at larger images awaiting but a single click, and Natasha jostled Loki further to reach the touchpad, to pull up the image with the highest resolution so far of what the blogger had labelled 'Lady' Geoffrey given that it was of a very naked blonde man riding a horse through Central Park, with the other photos being a visual map of the events leading up to that little adventure.

Natasha had known, of course. Had saved them. Had been keeping up with their progression even as she deliberately didn't mention them to Loki, unsure how he would react when faced with people who were likely Asgardians as well. It hadn't been cruelty that motivated her to keep the news that he was most likely not alone from him, but practicality. For if he was given the choice between his own people and her, it was unlikely that she would remain his anchor in this world.

So what had prompted her decision to change his mind?

...Natasha may not have heard much of Loki, through her own lack of interest in that general area of human culture (namely old and dead and irrelevant) but Thor? That was a common enough name used in modern literature and media. She was even pretty sure there was a fucking condom brand named after him, hammer jokes and all. And Thor's position in Norse mythology was a high and lofty one, esteemed and respected and heroic. If Loki was related to him, was his little brother then that was the game-changer. He was important himself, if only be relation, maybe in his own right. He was even more valuable. Keeping such things from him was not going to be wise, not when he could either take offence and hold a grudge (and didn't this now explain some of his haughtiness, the entitlement he wore like the cloak he unfortunately hadn't been sent down to earth with). And, besides, important people merited rewards if favours were done to them, so if there were others of his kind here, it paid to keep in his good favour.

Those were the practical, logical reasons, based on hierarchy and politics and what made good sense in most cultures. And, yet, if you asked Natasha, really asked her and was somehow guaranteed an honest answer...

This decision had been based on her gut. Not on her head. Because there was no ignoring bonds, or the lack of them, or the complicated nature of some of them. Because they'd taken away his children, made one of them a beast of burden and monsters out of the rest. Because there were shadows in him when he spoke of warriors and expectations and being a younger brother. Because, maybe, he knew of their presence and still hadn't asked her to help him find them.

Because, maybe, he was as much of a lone wolf as she was.

They were not the sort of people who dealt in trust and generosity and faith. They were logical and they were cunning, they were liars and they were users. And yet sometimes, rarely, there were things that even tricksters could not do alone, things that even manipulators could not achieve on their own. And, just out of Natasha's grasp right now, was the sense of something better and bigger than anything she'd set herself to since becoming independent.

It was a risk. A big one. But Natasha had been safe for too long, her job boring too long, and so this was her moment of recklessness, her turning point as she dared to try something different as she showed him the card she'd held close to her chest and looked at him, curiously fierce and challenging. It was in the tilt of her chin, the contained fire in her eyes, the way she was suddenly so much more there than she'd been previously, as if she was acknowledging the pivotal nature of this moment.

"These are other Asgardians. True or false?"

[Loki]

Loki idly listened to the television while he waited on Natasha to figure out his puzzle, paying little real attention to the informercials and claims that your life would be improved if you purchased this product. He was really just passing the time with this idle interest, waiting on Natasha’s next true or false statement to be tossed his way, wondering what it would be now. Something personal, something painful, something powerful. Loki knew it would be a topic from these three, unless it was a distraction from the earlier statements. He was all too familiar with the sleight of hand (though not in those words) and the careful push and pull of information. The only thing Natasha was failing to do was to recognize Loki’s own game, much too wrapped up in her own to think about what he was writing.

However, the change on Natasha’s face was clear. And what information had brought about this change? Thor was Loki’s brother. Surely, the Asgardian should be more concerned with what he could get out of Natasha’s reaction, but he was far too busy being bitter. Thor was known, was recognizable to Natasha. The simple name Loki at the start of their alliance had been little to change her perception of the Viking god, but the reaction to Thor, to Thor being Loki’s relative, now that was instantaneous. The God of Thunder was popular on both Asgard and Midgard, it seemed, and Loki was curious to find out for what his brother was known for. If the first connection to Loki had been Sleipnir, Loki could only hope that Thor’s link to Earth was equally unheroic and not indicative of the god at all. (But he doubted it, as noble Thor always got what was best for him.)

Loki was watching Natasha carefully, searching for an answer for the look on her face, an answer that would give him some kind of clarity on the situation, on what she thought about Loki’s relationship to Thor. Then, she was in motion, disappearing off in the direction of her bedroom without so much as a word, and Loki was left to sit and contemplate. Humans were so fickle. Not that Asgardians were any better, but they at least would bother to say “I will return” or give indication of what they were doing before simply disappearing. It did not bother Loki necessarily, but he was knowledgable enough about the basic workings of the Earth liar to understand that there was some motivation behind her actions and that if she was not planning on explaining her actions, she would have done whatever needed to be done more subtly than simply walking off.

And so, Loki sat back and remained patient. It was worth the few moments of waiting, as Natasha returned with a computer in her hands, something likely important pulled up on the screen. So, what did Loki and Thor have to do with the computer? The trickster god knew, because he had been musing over how to get access to the pictures of the “mutant” sightings for days, and the only method was the internet. When Natasha sat the computer down in front of him, displaying pictures of Hogun and Sif and Thor, Loki supposed he could have feigned surprise, but instead, he turned to interest and interest alone, for these were the images he had wanted to see.

Hogun, looking angry yet neutral as always. Sif, doing her best to offend Midgard from the start by hitting a cop, it seemed. Thor, riding a horse through what appeared to be Central Park. All of them naked, weaponless, and - if Loki was able to bet - magic-less. Hogun, by far, was the most intelligent of these pictures, though Loki suspected that his sudden exposure to Midgard had resulted in a little violence, if not a lot. The large majority of the Asgardians were prone to fighting, as was expected from a warrior race, but what they were not prone to was hitting people who were trying to help them or riding creatures through populated parks.

He thought this because Loki had a vague knowledge of human society. Police were not out to destroy the average citizen, and they were helpful for getting directions, if necessary. (What? Loki was curious how that interaction would go, and a request for directions was innocent enough.) Sif hitting a cop probably ended up badly for her, though once she had calmed down enough, the woman was likely more compliant, as long as the cop did not try to arrest her or the like. But Thor? Loki had been to the park. He had seen the horses, he had seen the traffic there, the cars, the civilians. Why in Odin’s name would Thor think taking a horse and riding it across foreign territory was an intelligent thing to do, Loki did not know. At the very least, the man could have ridden somewhere to hide, but Loki highly doubted this. Neither Thor nor Sif nor really Hogun were known for their subtlety.

The question of which Asgardians were on Earth had been answered, but that still left Loki with where they were now. That could be answered later, and Natasha would probably be able to suggest an answer if Loki asked nicely and with appropriate wording. The question now - why was Natasha showing the trickster god these images? What benefit did it give her? Liars and deceivers did not simply display all of this information in one fell swoop without recognizing some reward.

He knew that the presence of Asgardians on Earth other than Loki was a means for Natasha to get information from a source other than himself. So, why was he still here, at her apartment? There were other Asgardians - and Loki had mentioned enough to indicate that they would likely be more forthcoming with answers to questions - and surely Natasha had no use for an alien deity who kept information close to his chest when there were at least three others who were available for use. What was she looking to gain by showing Loki these pictures, by revealing some secret knowledge? Trust? Confidence?

And, what did Natasha think of Loki, for her to so willingly show the alien members of his own race on Earth? Impulsive, he was not, and that was clear to the Earth woman, but surely she could assume that he would want to reconnect with his brethren, which might put Natasha in a lesser position that the powerful one she had just released freely. For what reason would Loki wish to remain separate from his brother, who he had just spoken of, who was noble and true and glorious and all the things Asgardians were supposed to be.

He could name at least a hundred.

And those were the logical ones.

Loki knew of the Asgardians, not name, not face as he did now, but he had chosen to avoid searching them out in anything other than curiosity for who had been teleported to this realm along with the god of mischief. He wanted the information, but not the contact, not now when Loki was in the middle of a great ruse, a trick that no Midgardian expected. Aliens, extra-terrestrials, a being from another world walking among the humans without fear of exposure. It was as much of a challenge as it was an effort to survive. There was so much potential in this world, in Earth, and Loki would be foolish to pass the opportunity for another realm of mischief.

Natasha was part of the reasoning, for Loki was completely aware that he information he received could come from another source, just as easily. But why? For lack of better words, Natasha was interesting and entertaining. A liar, yes, but there was something of a challenge in trying to interpret truth from deception in another. It was a game. Natasha had been keeping this information about the Asgardians private, and she was still with Loki, allowing him to stay in her house and annoy her greatly (it was one of Loki’s favorite games to play), when she could have gotten another Asgardian or just handed Loki over to the government. But she didn’t. And he stayed because this game was too much fun to pass up, because she was careful to keep him out of trouble, keep the Norse god alive, and that meant that he was safe in terms of his life.

That was all that mattered here on Earth, at least until the magic issue had been solved.

Natasha’s final move in her game, the question of true or false concerning Thor and Hogun and Sif? Well, Loki turned his gaze from the screen to the face of the human, purposefully neutral, but there was still that glint in his eyes that refused to leave when another move was about to be made. ”True, and it’s my turn -” The god tapped at the screen as he spoke, careful not to actually touch the device as he was used to the finger sensitive phone and tablet rather than this computer. ”Central Park, Thor. Rockefeller Center, Loki. Times Square, Sif. An unknown location for Hogun, beg your pardon. Collecting information is difficult without the internet and the ability to write accurately. These are the locations of the appearances of the Asgardians. True or false?”

[Black Widow]

There wasn't surprise on his face, or suspicion, and that was just verification in itself. (It also made Natasha's tucking of her third and least favourite gun into the back of her pants a little obsolete, but she hadn't gotten to where she was by assuming that people wouldn't react badly when it turned out she'd been keeping the truth from them.) More importantly than that, though, it confirmed that he too had kept his own little discovery from her.

This was, of course, typical for people like them and Natasha wasn't even offended.

As Loki looked, Natasha in turn watched him. She'd seen the images before, of course, had subjected them to her usual degree of scrutiny each time her customised web search had flagged them up for her attention. As Asgardians, they interested her. They represented as other pieces of evidence that this alien world existed, pieces that other people now had within her grasp and that offended her since, previously, she had thought Loki the only one of his kind.

But, watching the footage and reading the accounts (and mutants were still being blamed which meant that no one official either knew about this quiet little alien invasion or had decided to release that fact to the public) showed her that the others reacted differently to her own new pet. Perhaps it was because she had approached Loki so swiftly, but he had neither hit someone, nor searched for a weapon, nor stolen a horse and left a swathe of people requiring therapy in his wake. Because of that, Natasha was inclined to be grateful for the fact that she had stumbled across a sensible Asgardian to take under her sharp-feathered wing, was certain that he was more intellectual than those of his kind who had reacted like cornered wild animals.

And he was hers. Her Asgardian. She had no issue with being possessive since, really, she still counted him as probably the most valuable asset of those to have arrived on Earth. He was intelligent and thought the way she did, and had showed himself adaptable and at least willing to pretend to respect her (more correctly, in all actuality, to acknowledge her usefulness to him and vice versa) and Natasha would not have traded that for someone more easily manipulated, but who was likely to have crippled her reputation. Who else would have played along when Nolan brought Natalie slamming into Natasha? Who else would have understood how necessary it was to have a believable and thorough cover and identity? Who else would have dedicated themselves to actually fitting in and not fucking up the complicated mechanisms of Natasha's lives?

Who else knew what it was like to lie not just with your mouth, your lips, your tongue, but with ever aspect of who you were?

She did not want to lose this asset and so her eyes were trained on his face as she showed him proof of people she was sure were like him. His reactions here were important because this was her gamble, her risk, and the proof would be in what he did next as to whether she had made the right call or not. Natasha watched him be...well, as cool and collected and unhelpful in displaying his actual thought processes as she would have been in the same situation, and she supposed that she could hardly be irritated with him for doing what she herself would have.

She made no secret of the fact that she'd been observing him when he slanted his gaze towards hers, her own weight resting mostly on the palm she had braced on the table, the other bracketing the back of his chair. Natasha looked back at him without any apology in her unblinking eyes, half-hooded and mostly obscured by her lashes as a veil, firmly neutral even as he took his turn, making a rather pointed show of clarifying just how aware he'd been of these people's existence.

The pieces were put together rather quickly after that little show and Natasha arched an eyebrow at him, torn between wanting to roll her eyes at his roundabout mischief (how fitting) and power play, and being amused. Because it was tricksy and pointed and sardonic...and precisely the sort of game she might herself have played. More so because she'd been more distracted by her own connivings than something she'd taken as an idle challenge and, no, she would not be under-estimating anything he did anymore.

She did not immediately answer, instead leaning forwards to stretch and reach for the paper she'd abandoned where she'd been standing previously, as well as the pen. Printing 'museum mile' was swift work though, after writing 'Times Square' beneath the puzzle she hadn't finished, the one that might have clued her into his pointed little message. And, with that one, she at least had the 'm' sound to try and write her own version of what the attraction's name might be in his language, using the symbols that he'd given so far in a pretty rough approximation, then slid it towards him, tapping the english words with her index finger. "I'd like to hope that this is correct, but I think I'm lacking some key sounds, as well as a lot of experience and possibly a linguistics degree," she said dryly and pointed at the man he'd called Hogun. "Museum Mile is where your friend is - his name doesn't ring a bell, by the way, not in our mythology at least." The other two, though, Thor and his wife Sif (or so the mythology had said, since Loki had effectively outed his brother as unwed as of yet.)

Natasha made no apology for having kept this from him until now. Neither did she ask him why he hadn't asked her about them, since that was an answer they both knew, keeping aspects of their own knowledge secret from each other, probably out of habit. There was no point in lingering over the whys, as if they were normal people to be offended by secrets and omissions. Instead, she simply looked back into his face, calm and unafraid and with just the barest hint of a challenge darkening her eyes in an otherwise composed expression.

"So, true." A simple nod of the head and then the slight tilt of her chin to add pointed emphasis to her next question. "You do not wish to be reunited with your own people, or not just yet at least. True or false?"

This was how honesty was won amongst tricksters, in games and parries and deflections and, very rarely, directness. But he was here, wasn't he? Here and with prior knowledge of these members of his own race on Earth. Still here.

And Natasha wanted confirmation that that was for a reason.