“Shall you whisper them in my ear, lest anyone else know them? Or maybe you’ll try to kill me, after I’ve drunk enough of this wine to satisfy you. Just to protect yourself.” Her mouth curled in a one-sided smile. “What do you want to tell, darlin’? What’s so hard to carry you resort to drinkin’ and a smart-mouthed firechild?”
She set the glass aside and rose to stand immediately before him, looking up the foot of difference. Very close. “What are you running from? Tell Summer.”
Something in her countenance made Loki shiver slightly. That would not do.
“I hope you are aware, darling, I would not need you intoxicated first to kill you.” He smiled then, throwing the force of his contrasting dispositions upon her. Know thyself. That ought to do it.
He silently considered her offer; he could pour out his troubles, watch them suffocate and burn her, and be rid of them. Or perhaps he would never truly be free, no matter how many he hurt with his own pain. ”I could not trouble you with such things,” he murmured, “But if I did, you would be in danger from more than just the pain of your…abilities.”
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.