Loki flinched. ”You say gotten out…it was more of an escape, if you recall. An escape which may or may not still be in progress.” He tangled his fingers together in thought.
“Asgard is an awful place. You must want to leave. Where do you want to go? I shapeshift into your form, ask to use the bifrost, considering you are not a wanted criminal…and you follow. No one will be the wiser. Yes?” He looked at her expectantly.
“I … haven’t been using the bifrost, Loki. Why don’t you just walk with me along the ways between.” Her mouth twisted a little, and she muttered, “Then you can explain to me just why I’m helping you escape. This is a bad idea.”
“Ah, but you will help me,” he held up a finger. “They are watching for me everywhere. I must be wary. But you’re right, my presence would be detected even if I did take another form.” His eyes searched hers then, reining in his desperate swing of excitement at an evolving plot. It was always so refreshing to have another mind with which to spin his plans, to not be so completely and utterly alone…
“What do you suggest?”
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.”