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?”
He hums at her with a small nod. “You are correct with that now. As for who I am,” He grins at her, showing all his teeth as he does, “you may have heard of him refer me as Jotun in the past or Raven more recently.”
“I don’t think — oh! You’re Aleyna’s Loki. The one he wants to light up like a Christmas tree. Huh.” Summer studies him. More feral-looking than Flyte. The hair seems shorter, more ill-kempt. And there’s no possible way to mistake them from the inside. “Raven.”
His smile falters a little but he composes himself quickly. “Yes. The very same one who managed to annoy him that much he left his own tower.” Raven gestured to himself as he watched the fire haired girl. “Though I can say we are no longer together.”
“I did figure that out when she moved out,” Summer says wryly. “Is that what happened? I wondered. So. Have you come to try the same with me?” She puts the book aside, sitting up to clasp her hands with elbows on knees.