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Another day at the office. Loki was pretty certain that was what the Midgardians called it as they went about their dull work. It was never going to become normal for him though since he had no plans of remaining a TVA lackey for any substantial period of time. Mobius at least had the decency to call his current job ‘consulting’. He knew how he loathed working beneath others and figured it was a royalty thing. The man wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t completely right. Still, Loki appreciated the small gesture. Yes, Loki considered what he was doing far beneath him, however that wasn’t the true root of his distaste for the job. What he truly loathed about working for the TVA was the simple fact it was just that. The Time Variance Authority. An absurd concept to him since no one had control over such a thing as time. He Who Remains could believe it. Sylvie in her own way had believed it by thinking killing He Who Remains would have fixed her hardships. All of the brain washed fools walking about the TVA could believe it. It didn’t make it true. One could call what he had done to Sylvie selfishness. Now that claim wouldn’t be that far off from the truth. Loki would happily accept the accusation if it ever came up one day. The whole multiverse would have been destroyed through Sylvie’s actions. Loki still didn’t understand how, as his counterpart, she could not see that as nothing but detrimental to the universe. At heart, he actually considered himself selfless which he would never admit. Yes, some worlds were lost to death and despair, but did that make any lives on them less valid? Should they cease to exist because of unfortunate events that they were forced to endure? Loki had only had to think of his Mother to decide ‘no’. Worlds, timelines, out there likely contained a life where she had gotten to stay happy amongst the Vanir far from Odin’s vice-like grip. Sylvie hadn’t known loyalty. He couldn’t fault her, for he barely knew it himself. What he did know of it, was it was something hard earned and gifted to a rare few. He Who Remains and a group of hubris, pointless, conditioned individuals? Never. What Loki was actually doing at the TVA, was biding his time. He was waiting for the right opportunity to reveal itself to him and once it came? Well, he wasn’t entirely sure just yet, but he hoped to cut off their ability to interfere at the knees via its workers directly. Sure, He Who Remains could pluck a whole new hoard of employees to indoctrinate, but after meeting the man? Being in Citadel and learning about the Time Keepers? Loki was inclined to think he wouldn’t waste his powers on such a thing anymore, believing the time to be near. The Fates were surely laughing at him as he continued to go mad on his lonely little rock. Over the course of… however long he’d been at the TVA, Loki had to admit there were a few interesting cases that had crossed his desk. Majority of which were more entertaining than anything because some beings were admirably creative. Others had interesting motives. He saw no reason to interfere with what they were doing, since from his point of view they were destined to happen anyways. So in those cases, he’d led the hunters slightly astray for pure amusement purposes. Shuffling through mind numbing paperwork looking for magical patterns all the time didn’t change the fact he was the God of Mischief and Chaos. Although a few times Loki had indulged the agency by letting them capture a handful of ‘trouble makers'. Still, that was more of a strategic move of his own versus actually thinking they deserved what the TVA decided to do with them. If he wanted to remain in his place as a dedicated employee for the time being, he had to provide the illusion of being one. Mobius was possibly the only thing that made being at the TVA bearable. The man treated him like, dare he say it, a friend. An odd thing to experience since he’d only ever had one genuine friend over the course of his long life. Unfortunately over the last two decades, Loki hadn’t gotten a chance to see him much. All Mobius’s friendship really did, besides debatably help keep him sane, was make him miss Hulda. It would be a little sad to part ways with the man eventually, but Loki planned to do so with a returned kindness he didn’t exactly express. Plus, he wasn’t sure Mobius, as he was now without memories of a life, would be happily accepting of such a gift. Loki was going to plop Mobius down somewhere when it came time for him to be done with the TVA. He would put his… acquaintance, on an uneventful timeline or in a Midgard where he had already died. A place that would provide him the opportunity for an actual life. One with memories because whether others believed it or not, monster he may be, he was not made of actual ice. A fellow employee, a blond woman with a cheerful attitude and bright smile, waved at him as they passed each other. Loki never understood how most of them, especially the ones at the desks, always seemed so happy. He had to think it was one of the very few perks that came with not having memories of the world beyond the TVA. None of them knew there were a million things far better out there. Blowing out a breath when the woman fully passed, Loki pushed his sleeves the rest of the way up to his elbows. Over the work portion of their day, his sleeves always found their way up to them. It wasn’t so much that he was hot as it was building irritation. By the end of his ‘shift’, Loki was always at his limit for socializing. None of his royal duties had ever been so mentally taxing. Something that said a lot in his opinion since he had had meetings regularly. Ones that ranged from the pesky thorn of drama within the palace servants and large tense diplomatic negotiations with the dwarves. Trying to shake off the irritation from too much animated stimulation as always, Loki glanced around. Mobius worked an entirely different job than him since he was middle management so they weren’t always in the same area. Usually, they met up at least once a day towards the end of it in the ‘Chow Hall’ though. Loki greatly disliked the title ‘Chow Hall’ when ‘dining hall’ could have been used instead. The word ‘chow’ made it sound as if they were animals scarfing down their pitiful preserved meals. It also made him think of being in prolonged battles and eating with the unit, which was in no way enjoyable. A fighter he was, but a brute warrior he was not. Seeing someone tall and bright in his peripheral vision made Loki pause mid-step. No, it was the flicker of something glistening as the person moved that actually caught his attention. He should have dismissed it as nothing since it was in the large expanse of space reserved strictly for opening time doors. Instinct seemed to keep him in place though, so he tried not to be annoyed for the slight interruption in his repetitive routine. After all, instinct was what had saved his life more times than he wanted to count. The area the person was walking past now, was the ‘The Perp Wall’. A wall that consisted of one long wooden bench extending the length of it with an equally long metal rail higher above the seating. It was where the newly arrived criminals sat, and their magical wrist cuffs were chained after being apprehended. Usually if the hunter wasn’t exactly sure what to do with them yet, needed to grab someone or had to gather easy paperwork really quick. Loki pretended to be fixing the bottom few buttons on his shirt as he waited for the person to quit moving or walk into a more direct line of vision. It wasn’t a hard task since he loathed the shirts provided by the TVA. He missed his smooth Asgardian leather, ties and airy tunics. Hearing the clunk and click of metal hitting metal, Loki was surprised to hear the zap temporarily molding pieces of chains to the bar. It was a pretty inventive device for non-magical beings when it came to keeping the most dangerous criminals from slipping their cuffs in any way. Mobius had said it hadn’t always been that way, and that it was some bendy blond that had ‘weaseled’ his way right out of the standard model. The sound made him turn his head to get a good look at their new intake. One worthy enough to be not just chained, but molded, to the bar. Loki felt his eyebrows raise instantly at the sight. Interesting enough it was a face he knew, as out of place as it was. After his little… incident on Midgard, Loki had a few faces he could never forget. The one in front of him? It was the most vivid of all. Blond hair. Squared jaw. A tall broad figure that radiated humble power. Loki had admired the Hawk, even through the cloud of mind control. He’d instantly wanted him at his side because the man had heart. A strong one full of skill, determination and passion. Someone who fought for everything, unwilling to stop until he’d achieved his task no matter the costs. Traits, qualities, he appreciated. Clinton Barton was an Avenger. An Agent that had been assigned to protect the people of Midgard, as hopeless as the little merry band he was a part of was. It made no sense why any form of the Hawk was in cuffs at the TVA. Loki knew Barton was an assassin and a spy, prone to finding himself in chains. He was pretty sure that had always been intentional though because the man was skillfully deceitful and cunning in his missions. Another marvelous trait he’d personally found exemplary. Out of all of Midgard, Barton was one of two. Stark was the other, but that was mostly for his high intellect. Loki didn’t enjoy people who boasted about themselves like Thor, spoke endlessly like some young warrior and had the common sense of a creature that ran around looking for nuts. The funny part was the fact, Barton and Stark were the only two true mortals in the Avengers capable of any actual fight against him. Unfortunately for the little Spider, her strength lay solely in hand-to-hand combat. A Midgardian, no matter how strong or skilled they may be in physical confrontation, had no chance against a god. Maybe a Light elf without access to their magic or a dim Dark Elf, but not an Asgardian or Jotunn. Barton, having no substantial durability, brought him back to his original question. How had someone like him, a simple Midgarian, landed in the clutches of the TVA? Better yet, how had he managed to time jump or slide through the multiverse without powers of some form. Loki studied Barton a little more. The blond hair was as ruffled and careless as he remembered, tousled like he couldn’t be bothered to find a brush. He wore light torn and dirty denims around his long legs and a faded, frayed purple hoodie with a white and dark purple target on the front. A favored attire he recalled from the man’s memories when not in his tight thermal SHIELD uniform. Frowning at the familiarity, Loki studied Barton’s face. Aside from his catching square jaw, it had his straight set eyebrows and the small defined lines on his forehead that spoke of heavy focus. Although they seemed a little deeper now, perhaps from age. If he looked closer, he became certain it was light blue eyes he’d be met with with the faint hum of the devices in his ears for hearing. All logic argued against this being Clinton Barton though, no matter how… perfect he looked the part. Shape shifters weren’t exactly uncommon, but it was difficult to find them in the Nine Realms. Very few were born and those that were tended to hide their ability for fear of Odin’s wariness of the physical trait. One species in particular was known purely for its shape shifting abilities but they existed in a galaxy far away from Midgard. The TVA had many flaws. Hundreds if not thousands. One of the most blatantly obvious ones was their obsession with the Nine Realms. Midgard particularly. Loki found it mildly amusing because of course they didn’t bother with the rest of the universe. ‘Control’ over time was not absolute in any one location, let alone something as large as the multiverse. Humming, curiosity getting the better of him, Loki reached into his trouser pocket to pull out his temp pad. A gift of good faith from Upper Management upon being offered his job. In reality though, it was a thank you from He Who Remains. Of course, his ‘superiors’ didn’t actually know that in their ignorance. Loki could not argue that the temp pad was a highly valuable asset, even more so than the space stone. It’s why he always kept it on his person no matter where he went. He actually hated using it unless necessary though, for no other reason than the annoying little insect that resided inside. "Miss Minutes," Loki said, turning his attention to the temp pad in his hand and tapping on the top of it impatiently before flipping it open. "Awaken foul beast." "Well, hello to you too darling," Miss Minutes said cheerfully as her orange form instantly jumped into the air and began walking around his head. "One day I will get some manners out of you, I will, I tell you." "Manners are reserved for those beings worthy of my respect or will be of use to me in the future," Loki said evenly, already annoyed by how chipper she was, any time she got to ‘stretch her legs’. "Not petulant little molecules of artificial intelligence already under my command." "How rude," Miss Minutes pouted, pretending to plop down on his shoulder and Loki batted her off with his free hand causing her to huff. "Him,” Loki said, pointing to the man that looked like Barton across the hall and Miss Minutes jumped onto his finger pretending to balance. “What do you know of him?" Miss Minutes suddenly stilled and Loki dropped his hand, almost hoping she would pretend to fall dramatically. At which point he could continue to mock her or swat her like the annoyance she was. She took every opportunity to act like something that was physically real, so it was a bit surprising when all she did was turn around stiffly with a smile that was far too wide even for her. "Hawkeye," Miss Minutes said, and Loki didn't miss the quiver of fear in her voice. "Oh come on derriere, let's go over that way. I do love our time alone together. No need for us to be talking about nothing in the middle of the walkway now is there?” Loki scowled at Miss Minute’s behavior. She was air, incapable of moving physical objects, yet she was now bouncing around the temp pad expressing her desire for him to move. The little pest even started pushing at the back of the tem pad, then began tugging on his thumb as if she could actually get him to turn away. "A sentiment not returned," Loki said dryly, lifting the temp pad up which caused her to jump from it and scramble over his shoulder. "What is your problem, you little glowing irritant? Who is he?" "Hawkeye," Miss Minutes whispered into his ear, and Loki gave up trying to see her as she hid behind the nape of his neck. "He's a dark one, he is. Ohh… I'd wager he'd give you a run for your money darling. Pure evil, lost to the darkness, reincarnated. A shadow of death." "And you have the audacity to call me the dramatic one?" Loki asked, but all her claims did nothing but pique his curiosity further. An evil Hawkeye? An evil Avenger? Yes, Clinton Barton’s past was similar to his own, coated in pain, but Loki couldn’t recall anything that would have made such a bright soul ‘dark’. He didn’t even consider himself dark, nor did Thor of all people and he was the golden son. "A name," Loki demanded when Miss Minutes didn't reply, confusion beginning to demand answers because he really couldn’t believe his eyes. “Come now darling, you really don’t need to worry yourself…” Miss Minutes began to try to dissuade him, but he wanted answers. “I said now,” Loki snapped, slapping the back of his neck to force her to move so he could speak to her directly. "Clinton Francis Barton," Miss Minutes said, appearing from under his armpit and he nearly groaned at her continued attempt to hide. "Born September 1, 1975 in Waverly, Iowa. The United States of America. Aliases? By the majority, in every world and timeline he is known as Hawkeye. One form of Hawkeye or another that is. Sometimes he goes by Ronin when he's feeling particularly... well, I don't exactly know what something like him feels." Loki processed the information, during which his gaze was slowly back to the man sitting against the Perp Wall. Miss Minutes had the basic facts about everything in her system. None of them were ever wrong, as unwilling as she was to give them sometimes or as twisted as she tried to make things sound. Usually those things involved the emotions she didn’t actually have as she attempted to tell you about their crimes or lives. So if she said this was Clinton Barton, Hawkeye, then it was indeed the Avenger. "You are artificial. You do not know what any living being feels," Loki muttered, his attention more focused on Barton attempting to slouch so he was merely hanging by his cuffs than on properly insulting her. Miss Minutes suddenly appeared in front of his face, making him blink as she blocked his view of Barton. She had the gall to actually look offended with her arms crossed. Another reason why he hated her, was that while she was supposed to be of higher intelligence she was stupid enough to believe herself capable of emotion. "I spent a fair time with Miss Sylvie,” Miss Minutes said passionately, apparently having been irritated enough to come from hiding. “So unfortunately for you darling I know what resides in that poor tender heart you keep locked away from the world, yes I do.” "Sylvie is not all of me and you can't pretend to know him," Loki argued, nodding around her towards Barton. “We are variants of each other. Not exact copies.” "Oh I can darling, I can. I spent a bit of time with that one once. It was..." Miss Minutes, closed her eyes and shuddered dramatically before huffing as if trying to shake away the memory. "Let’s just say lucky for me, it didn't last long." "Why is that?” Loki prompted, unsure if he was more curious as to how Barton had gotten his hands on a temp pad or what he'd done to supposedly terrify Miss Minutes. "You threaten to swat me like a bug, stuff me in a drawer, drop me in boiling acid, feed me to the beasts of various planets," Miss Minutes rattled off, counting each on a finger before pausing and throwing her hands towards where Barton sat. "Hawkeye? He shot an arrow right through my program and blew me to bits he did! BAM! I might as well just been tossed in the chute with a cannon ball!" "Really?" Loki asked, impressed as he watched Barton right himself in his seat and lean his head back against the wall. Barton was gifted with arrows. It was one of his most talented physical skills. He was brilliant enough with them that he could easily fit in on Alfheim. Actually, if Loki wanted to admit it, he even stood a great chance of impressing the Light Elves. A hard feat, but the man was Midgardian making any successful display of his all the more fascinating to them. Particularly if he brought out what were dubbed his ‘trick arrows’, such as the exploding ones he recalled. "Hey now, don't you be getting no ideas from him!" Miss Minutes interrupted his thoughts, by shaking her finger at him like a child. “I’d never been more grateful for my physical data system in my entire life than at that moment! I could have sworn I was done for, in that microsecond.” Some things in life, despite how fickle such a thing was, were set. Fixed points, that there was no changing. The best example being how every version of himself was a sorcerer… even if much to his displeasure, they were far from powerful ones. It’s why he was sure every Barton that existed was skilled at all the things he admired about him, including his arrows. Loki had trouble imagining a universe, a timeline, where he had not come across Barton in one way or another. The Avengers were surely something that always existed and he had always been to Midgard, even before his foolish attempt of takeover under the Mad Titan’s will. It didn’t matter if this was the Hawkeye from the timeline he was plucked from or not, it was still the Hawk he knew on some level which left him overflowing with questions about his presence at the TVA. "I recommend you disperse if you don’t want to risk a repeat of that event," Loki said, deciding to speak to Barton and find out more because who knew what benefit this knowledge could be to him if he ever found his way in the Avengers path again. "I'd like to... say hello." "Oh I knew that was coming, yes I did," Miss Minutes said grimly, rubbing the top of her clock face worriedly. "No, that's not terrifying at all darling. I'm just gonna…” Loki rolled his eyes when Miss Minutes gestured to the temp pad, actually seeming at a loss for words, and jumped back into it. It slammed shut all on its own. Once again, leaving him to wonder how she thought it correct to claim he was dramatic when she acted as if her life was on the line when she couldn’t even die. She was ridiculous. Slipping the temp pad back into his pocket, Loki straightened himself and went over the information he had. Miss Minutes hadn’t given him a lot, not even his crimes that he was brought in for. However with what he also knew from his short time with Barton, he was confident he had enough to establish a conversation. One filled with bitterness and hatred, it mattered not he supposed. Unknowing to what he was about to discover, Loki savored the anticipation by walking up to the man slowly. It was possibly the most interesting, exciting, thing that had happened to him since the end of Sylvie. He needed to enjoy the moment as long as possible since he still had no idea when he was going to be escaping the TVA. Out of habit, reflex, Loki clasped his hands behind his back. He actually wanted to drop them to his sides to provide an air of casual indifference to Barton’s presence. The Avenger was the one in chains after all, and he for once was not. Try as he might though, he couldn’t shake the formality. He wondered if perhaps it was because to the Midgardian, criminal or not, he was still a Prince. Barton didn’t seem to notice him approaching him. Loki supposed it was possible the man just didn’t care and was ignoring him, but that sounded unlikely. It was more plausible that he was fascinated with the smooth stone ceiling. Moving a little closer though, he noted the Avenger’s eyes were actually fixated on the cuffs around his wrists. As soon as Loki went to take the moment of obliviousness to look the man over more closely, Barton’s eyelids fluttered. He watched as the man slowly moved his gaze from the cuffs as he leveled his head once more. Light blue eyes, as expected, met him and that fact alone made it finally feel real. Miss Minutes had said it was Barton, but looking into his eyes? Something satisfying washed over him. "Oh how the mighty have fallen," Loki said with a small smile. "Hello Agent Barton." Barton didn’t respond. He stared back at him blankly, seemingly unbothered by his presence. Loki conceded mathematically speaking there was a chance there was at least one Barton out in the multiverse that hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him. What were the odds the one landing himself in the TVA somehow, was one of them though? Part of him, the part that longed to see a familiar face from the outside world, actually hoped the Avenger recognized him. "I would think you'd be inclined to remember me," Loki prompted, genuinely interested if he did or not. "If I've fallen…" Barton actually responded, his light blue eyes darkening a touch as they narrowed a bit. "What does that say about you?” Loki masked how he was taken aback by the contempt in his question. Barton had always had a mouth on him. Sass and attitude that rivaled his own. Fire in his soul that was ready to fight when he needed to. Still, knowing the validity behind the man’s judgment? Long term benefit, deceit, aside… the older he got the more he hated being something he was not. “Loki Laufeyson,” Barton continued, casting a glance around the emptying room and Loki bristled at the name. “Standing in the TVA, not in cuffs? Working for these brainwashed bastards? Now that’s a fall. Ouch." Barton grimaced for him, his face morphing into an expression of distaste. Loki felt himself start to internally seethe as he clenched his jaw tight with restraint. He didn’t know which part of what the man said angered him more. Was it the embarrassment of working for the TVA? No, he had his reasons for that. Balling his hands into fists behind his back, Loki’s forearms shook from his efforts not to reach out and grab the man by the throat. No one on Midgard knew of his true origins, let alone his birth name. The only one who was possibly in the realm that knew would be Thor. Regardless of their current issues, he knew his… brother, any version of him, wouldn't be as careless as to announce such a sensitive thing to the likes of the Avengers. Acting as if he’d said nothing wrong, or out of the ordinary, Barton sighed almost as if he was bored. Loki watched his face relax back into casual indifference, but in the process he began running his eyes all over his face. The man was searching for something and he didn’t have the faintest clue as to what. A peak of blue skin? He didn’t think so when his eyes traveled southward where he was fully clothed. “You wouldn't happen to know where my counterpart is in your world do you?” Barton randomly asked, meeting his eyes once more and taking him off guard enough that his shoulders relaxed. “... or old world I guess since you've become some TVA paper pusher.” Loki raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly at the question. It appeared that this was not the Barton he’d personally come across during his own attack on New York City. The man was aware of who he was though. Maybe more so than he dared consider given the fact he knew he was a Laufeyson by blood. Of course, Loki had no idea where the Barton he had once met was. The man was an Avenger and SHIELD Agent. A world wide undercover spy, while he was stuck in the TVA. At least on some level the Barton before him was all of that too. So the Midgardian couldn’t possibly expect him to have any clue. For all he knew the Hawk was lounging in Stark’s lavish Tower watching their television or in some tree on a distant land far from New York City. "Why is it that you ask?" Loki countered, regarding Barton carefully. “Eh, don't tell me,” Barton shrugged, as much as he could with his long arms stretched up above him. “I like a challenge anyways. Gotta burn time somehow. Tracking people that know how to disappear is fun am I right?” “What are you implying?” Loki asked instinctively, unable to stop himself because he didn’t know if Barton was talking about him or someone else. “What exactly are your infractions here?” A most unfamiliar smile took over Barton’s face. Mirth that seemed incredibly misplaced in the moment, danced in his eyes. Loki watched him with cautious doubt. It was a bit… unsettling because while the man was dangerous in his own ways, he didn’t give off an aura that could unnerve the average person. If anything, from what he could recall, the man actively deceived people by being the opposite of terrifying or intimidating. Loki could hear Miss Minute's claims again. “... a dark one, he is. Pure evil, lost to the darkness, reincarnated. A shadow of death.” How was Clinton Barton, an Avenger, any of those things? Yes, he was gifted in stealth, but he was a good man. Not darkness and a shadow of death reincarnated. He made a vow to swat the little pest with a rolled up file for getting in his head next time he summoned her. Barton didn’t answer him, despite the way he continued to smile up at him. Loki didn’t know exactly what to say or ask next as he stared back. He was trying to adjust his perspective from the Barton he was familiar with to the one in front of him. Hearing the tell-tale stomp of hunter’s thick boots, Loki reluctantly broke Barton’s stare off with him. He pressed his lips together tightly seeing two quickly approaching them from the right side of the hall. One being the hunter he saw walk away after planting the man down on the bench and one of higher ranking. It was probably their handler. Loki was sorely tempted to tell them to leave them be. The Prince part of himself that he was forced to suppress almost constantly. Besides, it was not actually his place to step into something as minor as a non-magical criminal being brought in for whatever reason. Although he wasn’t sure how minor Barton was as he stepped away from the man, letting the female hunter melt the bar to release his chains. “Why if it isn’t my favorite little punk,” the male hunter said smugly as the female cooled the metal back into a solid. “Aw ya missed me,” Barton cooed at the man with a regular smile. Something inside him deflated a little at the much more natural response coming out of Barton’s mouth. Loki knew it was a bad idea, no matter how much he was tempted, to try taking control of the man’s case. He didn’t need the unnecessary attention and the last thing he wanted was the man happily spouting off all the things he knew about him. Whatever it consisted of, it was surely going to be enough to have everyone questioning if he was worthy of holding any position at the TVA. No matter how long he’d been here, he still had more than a fair few that disliked him. “Let’s go Hawkeye,” the female hunter said, grabbing Barton’s bicep roughly and forcing him to stand. “Your file needs to be updated for booking.” Barton was taller than her, no doubt stronger than her physically, but he let her manhandle him to his feet. It took the male stepping in to stabilize him and Loki could tell he was just being difficult for the fun of it. Again, another relieving more familiar Barton response. "Later Lokes," Barton said, with a wink as the hunters forcibly turned his upper body to start walking towards the adjoining hall that took them to the booking rooms. "If you come across other Avenger Clint’s at any point can you knee them in the nuts for me? I don't know how long getting out of this, time bent shit hole will take. Looks like they upgraded from the engraved ceramic conductors to some kind of metal…" “Shut up and walk!” the male hunter snapped, placing a hand on the back of Barton’s head and forcing him to turn completely around. The Avenger laughed. Loudly and genuinely laughed, nearly tripped all three of them in the process. Honestly it tripped him to, but mentally instead of physically. Although he did feel his eyebrows furrow in continued confusion. Loki was more confused than he’d been when he’d first seen Barton sitting on the bench. He thought that would have been a hard feat to beat after Miss Minute’s dramatic claims. Maybe they were dramatic, but it was possible there was some truth behind her words. What kind he couldn’t possibly begin to guess without more information. The main source of which he watched giggle its way down the hall. The puzzled expression on his own face fell away when Barton was turned around the corner. Loki was mostly watching because he was completely baffled, and that was only intensified when the man cast a glance back his way. It wasn’t full of anger, humor, or even the glimpse of darkness he had seen. Something about his face, his eyes were soft in a way he’d never seen in any of their interactions. Before he could analyze the way Barton had looked at him fully, the man was gone. Loki blinked at where he’d just been and tried, but failed, to make any sense out of it. He was getting ready to start laying out the subtle details he'd been provided just now, however he was interrupted by a large round of cheering coming from the Chow Hall. Loki growled. The magic in his veins wanting to lash out as he turned on his heel to head towards his room. He wanted, needed, to be alone for numerous reasons. Namely being because he was teetering on the edge of too much emotion, Barton bringing back too many memories and creating far too many questions. Just like every other day in the bloody office, he wasn’t sure there was much he could do about any of it at the moment.