Amazingly, she laughed. It was a small, bitter kind of laugh, but it was a laugh. “You would not be the first to say so, and likely not the last, either. You offered your secrets. I’ll dance with danger if that’s what it takes to numb your pain.” Turning around to sit back down (he could see the full knee-length fall of her hair, and nothing else), she added, “Or any other kind of dance you like. If that’s what it takes.”
“You asked me what I run from,” he spoke finally, pausing to take a drink. ”I run from Thanos. He does not want me dead, he wants me tortured…slowly…horribly. He caught me once, not very long ago. I had a taste of his plans before I escaped. I know I would not be so lucky a second time…” his voice was catching and his breath was coming faster, so he stopped to compose himself. He would not let his eyes fall on Summer again; she was hardly less intimidating, though in a much different manner.
“Ah.” The syllable was almost inaudible, her eyes wide and unfocused. When Loki fell silent, she blinked, and a few tears rolled down her face. Her fingers flexed.
“Yes. I’ll carry that. He held your mind, didn’t he.” It wasn’t even a question; her voice was low and harsh, and something sharp edged it.
“He did,” Loki muttered simply. It was strange, opening up his most vulnerable secrets to a near stranger, and yet she felt very familiar to him. He felt lighter in her presence already, like she truly had lifted away his troubles.
“I am most certain now that the mind capable of reaching far greater levels of pain than the body.”
Her hands curled into fists, and every trace of pleasure or happiness was wiped from her face. “Such a truth, from the god of lies.” A sharp, short breath, and she relaxed, all over. “Will you … let me look?”