Summer looked at him for a long moment, turning thoughts in her head like flashes of lightning, or sparks from a fire. She didn’t know enough to help him with this. Would her more active skills work on Asgardians? She’d never tried — never had reason to. She didn’t know if she could turn the gaze of someone like Heimdall.
“They’ll expect you to flee the city, flee Asgard, right away,” she said at last. “Not to stay here, so close.”
“A double bluff. Indeed,” he mused slowly, “Perhaps my tricks should wait. I am nothing if not patient,” his eyes rested on hers again. A shaft of silver moonlight played against her soft features, and he wondered how late it must be. He had never felt so awake.
“Will you be…going back to Midgard…any time soon?” he prompted.
“Not tonight, anyway. I left some gear a little ways back.” She flicked a hand behind her, but found it difficult to tear her eyes away from his. Almost a year … no, she’d never forgotten him, but believed he’d forgotten her. And now it seemed he hadn’t, but what did that mean? Other than he saw a use for her, once again.