ACATALEPSY ➺ loki

15 , to russia

I woke up more nervous than usual, something about the thought of going on a mission with only Natasha scaring me. It wasn't like she was a bad person or anything, on the contrary, I was more scared of what kind of impression I would leave on her if we only had each other to speak to for a day or so, until we picked up Yelena, who we had decided we'd take along if she wished to go with. In every mission till now, I'd been around more than one avenger, and my crippling social anxiety was finally making itself shown at the idea of spending one on one time with the Black Widow herself. But I knew I couldn't spend my time dwelling on that stuff, so I forced myself out of my cozy bed and into the bathroom, changing into a simple peach coloured t-shirt and black leggings, knowing those would be the most comfortable clothes for a mission. I'd take a hoodie with me as well incase we needed to blend into any crowds later on.

It was just past seven when I finally made my way into the kitchen, tying my hair into a pony as I walked to the fridge to grab myself something to eat before the place got crowded. "Well, good morning to you too." A sour voice mumbled from behind me, making me spin around to see Loki sitting on one of the bar stools with a salty look on his face.

I tilted my head to the side for a second, trying to make sense of what I'd just seen, before shaking my head and turning back to the fridge and grabbing a cheese spread of some sort. "Don't do that to me—and good morning, Loki. Are you ready for your mission today? Ready to do some team building exercises with your dear brother, Tony and Steve?" I asked condescendingly, not willing to look at the man as I moved to grab a slice of bread and throw it into the toaster for a few seconds before grabbing it and placing it on a plate, picking up a knife to spread the cheese thingy over it.

"Do what?" Loki asked innocently, choosing to ignore the latter half of my statement, but I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"You know what, you weren't sitting there when I walked in. I may always be doubting my own life choices, but you cannot convince me I've lost my eyesight as well." I deadpanned as I sat down at the table across from the god, causally starting to eat my toast. It was strange how... not fearful I was of Loki. Even though I knew everything he had done a few years ago, it was very hard to find any distain or fear inside me for him. Especially after watching his series... it was hard not to feel for him in some twisted way, and it would be something that pleased me greatly if I could get him on decent terms with the other avengers.

"Forgive me... I forget that you've pried into almost every aspect of my life already. A shame, its always fun to torment the weak, but you seem more bothered by the idea of spending time with Romanoff than my presence here." He said, almost making me drop my toast in shock. "And what in the abomination of bread and cheese is that!?" Loki suddenly asked, looking at my toast in disgust. "Is your bread cooking machine broken or something? Why is it... so raw."

I almost laughed at his description of the poor slice of bread. "You don't get to judge the toasted-ness of my bread, good sir. I will eat it how I like—and for your information, slightly toasted hot bread is the best kind. Dough is uncooked bread, but a loaf has already been cooked as much as its meant to be, so why do people insist on making it all crunchy and dry? I don't understand why they hate themselves. No... that would be a lie, I very much understand why someone would hate themselves—what I don't get is why they must torture themselves with crispy bread."

Loki looked almost shocked at my sudden ramble about bread, but composed himself enough to put his unbothered expression back onto his face before replying. "You Midgardians never fail to amazing me... its incredibly fascinating to see just how wrong a person can get. And don't think I didn't notice you blatantly ignoring my question."