488/Swimming With Sharks

Swimming With Sharks
Date of Scene:	13 March 2020
Location:	A park near Loki's dwelling.
Synopsis:	Literally nobody wants Loki trapped on Earth, and Natasha wants a better idea of why there's been no progress. So she visits Loki! What could go wrong!
Cast of Characters:	Natasha Romanoff, Loki
Tinyplot:	Loki Being Loki

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Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha's gotten... a little ambitious with this one, and there's a reason she hasn't really told anyone she's doing this.
    See, there's an Asgardian Prince on her planet that wants to leave almost as bad as everyone else wants him gone, and the condition for him being able to *ever* get off this blue rock is that he be of use to them... And if what went down in Genosha is any indication, there are... hurdles in the way of that happening.
    So shoot her, she wants to see what she can learn about that, and change it if she can.
    In the interests of that, Natasha finally went and left a nice little letter telling Loki to meet her on a nearby rooftop at a certain time. This may or may not be the worst idea she's ever had, but she's ninety nine percent certain that Loki isn't in a position to actually kill her.
    Ninety six, maybe.
    A half an hour before the appointed time, Natasha strolls through a park with a bag under one arm on the way to her destination when she gets an old familiar feeling. That unmistakable feeling of being watched. She begins to peer around as discreetly as she can, maintaining an even gait. There's... a lot of things this could be, but frankly one possibility sticks out more than the others.

Loki has posed:
Then, there's nobody. Whoever that was back there? Gone.

And then a flutter of motion. A piece of paper, folded neatly, is in the shape of a paper crane. It is literally flying: both using it's little paper wings, but also drifting lazily through the air.

It does a serene barrel roll, gliding towards her, and then begins to fall towards the ground at Natasha's feet, harmlessly...

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha perceives enough to discern a pattern of footsteps behind her, her eyes narrowing as she lets this go on a few moments longer, until the next nearest person is far enough out of range, when she turns around with a panther-like look in her eyes to face...!
    Nobody.
    Natasha allows herself a moment to be utterly perplexed before she catches the motion in the corner of her eye and watches the little miracle take place with surprise, and expression that melts away to understanding by the time it lands at her feet.
    Looking down at the origami crane that used to be her note, Natasha sighs softly and lifts her head to look straight ahead, evenly noting, "... You're early."

Loki has posed:
Loki doesn't abruptly appear behind her, or anything like that. There's no attempt to scare the hell out of her. Instead, he chose the bench to her left, revealing that he's sitting there with a fluttering wash of illusion. If, in fact, he is sitting there.

"Not for the time I've amended this meeting to be," Loki replies. "Besides. A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to." Yep, Midgardian sass level achieved.

Should she check the folded note, he did indeed amend the time to 'Now' and 'Here' on the paper. Loki is dressed in sleek Midgardian garb: a long navy coat over all black suit: black on black, hair slicked back and glossy. He's comfortable, one arm on the back of the bench, leg crossed and at ease. His eyes watch her like shiny dark pebbles, lips curved in a subtle little smile. He's no-aggressive, at least in current posture: not that that means a lot, with Loki.

"That you assume I have an empty schedule is only mildly insulting."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha stoops down to pick up the note with one hand, still favoring the paper sack in her other arm, and reads the additions with a short huff through her nose before crumpling it up and stuffing it into her coat pocket.
    She looks at Loki and puts on a soft smile.
    She wants to twist his head off like a bottle cap and leave it in a toilet. She wants him to cry and apologise at Clint Barton's feet.
    But neither of those things are going to happen, so instead she just smiles pleasantly as she approaches him, her expression a perfect mask of civility that only cracks to show some faux bemusement as she says. "Well. You had time to get a blu-ray player." She notes good naturedly, catching the quote. "Mind of I sit down?"

Loki has posed:
"That's fair. I'm unusually idle, it makes for some embarrassing entertainment choices," Loki replies serenely. There isn't any tell of irritation to his gaze, no flick of chill or hatred: nothing. He seems, at least on the surface, to be relatively relaxed.

At the question of seating, Loki grandly gestures with the hand connected to his raised arm, as if he were entirely a proper, charismatic man out a knightly court. By all means she may sit. As if there were any question!

"Even I couldn't stomach 'the bachelor'," Loki observes wryly.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha smiles and nods graciously, putting a slight sweeping slant to the motion before she takes a seat next to him and sets the bag down between them. Whatever's in there smells kinda good, in a 'deep-fried' sorta way.
    Crossing her legs at the knee and folding her hands in her lap, Natasha smiles wistuflly and says, "Well, we haven't gotten to the 'consistent good taste' stage of our evolution yet. That show's probably gonna keep us off the galactic council or whatnot for another century or so."
    Keeping things pleasant, keeping a harmless air. She knows he knows better - lord knows what he might have made Clint tell him about her - but she wants him to come to the point himself.
    "Got you a present. If you're really here, I mean. They don't box anything fancy around here, but it turns out America makes amazing garbage."
    Should Loki look, the bag has a small carton of mozzarella sticks in them, of all things.
    "I defected to this country for these. Seemed worth a try."

Loki has posed:
The gift garners curiosity and amusement. Loki pulls his hand down to flick index and middle fingers open along the edge of the paper bag, glancing down into it as if it might contain a bag of viperous snakes. Which means with pleasure, no fear, really.

"You failed to indicate on your note that I should come with an empty stomach," Loki observes 'sadly', with a slip of his eyes sideways to her, appraisingly. "Interesting choice of bribe; did my brother suggest it?" Loki asks, with a slight arrival of irritation. It would be like Thor to send Loki something Thor would enjoy.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    And there's her hook~. Natasha smiles and looks at Loki. "Must everything be about your brother?" She says kindly, and then shakes her head, "No. I actually want to know how *you're* doing with all this. The perspective I've been exposed to is a little..." Natasha grins a little, "One-sided."

Loki has posed:
Loki's smirk flows out, liquid and serene, onto his face, as he glides his eyes over the park. He laughs, then, softly, eyes falling closed as if to fully relax into the amusement.

"You would /think/ the world could revolve without him," Loki answers, pleased, and finally tips his eyes sideways back onto her. "And yet here we are, as always." Loki flutters his fingers against his raised knee of his crossed leg. "I offer generosity, and the suggestion made puts me in direct danger for my life. Clearly, how else could I be doing but /fabulously/?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha shakes her head a little, and tilts her head to the side. "There's trust issues all around, by the sound of it." She says. "Maybe the problem's in the offer's delivery."

Loki has posed:
"Centuries of history, rather beyond the scope of Midgardians, yes," Loki answers, aloofly, but he isn't denying her statement, particularly, either. But throwing the humans under the bus? Always a fun thing to do. He doesn't push on it, though he could have, he just appraises her.

"Are you offering to go to him, then, and extol my virtues and willingness to be /heroic/?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha laughs. She can barely help it. "*HA* ha ha... aaaaaaaaaa-no." She sighs with a bemused smile on her face. "No, I don't think I'm going to do that. Encourage co-operation, maybe. Keep things moving smoothly, if I can help it. But as far as I can see - with my limited scope - ... it doesn't really seem like either of you are taking this seriously yet."

Loki has posed:
Loki flips, quickly as that, his mood dropped into a dark, deadlier place. It may remind her of a far less comfortable conversation they'd had. Clint might have been related to the subject matter.

"Oh, I am often serious between-the-lines. I /do/ have blue-rays to watch, not just waste time here with odd bribes," Loki replies, lowering his chin just a little, which causes him to look up from under his dark brows.

"I /will/ assist, should it be within my current ability, and not suicidal. When /he/ is serious about not sending me to die - investigating someone that can destroy an island while restricted by magic is a death walk -- then perhaps we will get somewhere."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha's heart leaps into her throat at that shift, every part of her keenly aware that this man could break her in half in a heartbeat, and that there's likely more than a small part of him that wants to. The knowledge of how this could blow up in his face if Thor finds out may be the only thing keeping her alive.
    But Natasha has that knowledge too, and she was raised to control herself. To put up false fronts. So to the casual observer, her expression merely darkens a shade, her voice lowering to meet his volume when she says. "But you're not. Nobody is. Your brother just wants your father to change his mind; and last I saw, *you* just want to taunt him with all the ways you could be helping him. Sooner or later *both* of you have to bite down and do something you don't want to do, and that starts with *you* asking: "How. Can. I. Help?" Natasha sighs and leans back slightly. "Without being clever. Just because you can't feign sincerity about it doesn't mean you can't still put the work in...
    "... and we both know your brother's too soft to get you killed."
    Never using Thor's name, because it seems to be a trigger. Keeping it possessive. The things Loki has, even if he doesn't especially care for them.

Loki has posed:
"And yet not too soft to prefer me rotting in a dungeon to being here," Loki cuts back, a little flare of hate entering his voice. There's wounds there, Loki's aware of some of Thor's side, perhaps: get Loki back to Asgard, no doubt. Something like that...

Something that involves Thor pushing Loki away or down...

"Do you really think he would have an answer if I asked that? How curious. I don't think he'd have something he'd trust me with." That was honest, Loki does truly doubt it.

"Push him to figure that out, and I'll ask. You want to resolve this, do that," Loki shrugs one shoulder, and stretches, as if he might soon stand. "Anything further?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha closes her eyes for a moment as Loki speaks; disappointed but unsurprised. An epiphany was a little too much to hope for. She knew that going in. But she got a good sample of where Loki's at, and... maybe she can work with that. Maybe she can't. But it's more information than she had.
    In response to Loki's very true statement about Thor mistrusting him, she dryly - but somewhat honestly says - "Eh, His feelings are hurt. He'll get over it when humanity's novelty wears off. Give it a century or so."
    At his final question, she looks at him for a moment and says: "Try the mozzarella sticks." She says giving an entirely false little smile as she stands. "They're really good." And then she begins to walk away, adding, "They go *straight* to your hips, though."

Loki has posed:
"Hm, not bad," Loki says in a snarky way, which may prompt a glance back. The bag of mozzarella sticks seems to have changed, Loki has reached in and drawn out an exotic bottle of wine, examining it with amused pleasure. Illusion? Something else? Either way, Loki's made of the gift what he will. He chuckles softly, fading magically from view.