“You may call me Summer.” With her chin in both hands, elbows perched on knees, she knew she looked very young. “Do they still call you Silvertongue?”
“It is merely a nickname. That I had grown fond until it was used against me.” Yet, deep down, the nickname still remained a favorite, better than other nicknames that floated around for him. “I’d prefer if you stayed with Loki. I had enough nicknames from Stark. Is it safe to believe that you are from Midgard?”
“That’s a fair assumption.” Her eyes crinkled with her smile, more genuine this time. “He calls me Sunshine. Still think of him, do you?”
“… Sunshine indeed.” Summer seemed perky, and it was mixing ineffectively with his own personality. Already he could say he wasn’t enjoying himself. The trickster finally turned around, advancing towards the barrier that separated them both. “It is not like I have much else to think about, other than those that ruined my plan for Midgard.”
“I think you are supposed to be thinking about what you did, rather than what we did.” She didn’t move when he stepped closer, just tipped her head to the side slightly. “You didn’t plan very well, anyway.”