Summer looks up from her book and freezes. “You … aren’t Flyte.” To that self-evident remark, eyebrows high on her face, she adds, “Who are you?”
She shudders, involuntarily leaning away from that smile. It shouldn’t be frightening; it’s the innocent, playful smile of a child. But she knows entirely too much of what is behind it.
“We stopped you once. We can do it again.” It’s all she can say in the face of this smiling danger.
A triumphant smirk is formed when Summer leans away.
“That was once. And the thing is I can fail as many times as i need to finally have my plans come together. If you all fail once in stopping me… You’re doomed,” He hisses in sick pleasure.
“There’s one of you, and many of us,” she points out. “You have to know of and understand all of us to win. We only have to understand you. Just you. And we’ve your brother to help with that, I think. You’ll never win, Loki. Never.”
How in the world has she fallen into the dramatic face-off scene? This is life, it’s not a book or a movie. She shakes her head slightly.