The greatest philosophers of the universe say that “time heals all wounds.”
But today, Mobius would rather Time hurry the hell up and get a med kit because he was not bleeding out over a damn snare.
It had caught him in the arm when he tripped running after the variant, he managed to wrench his arm out the ground to get a last glimpse of the variant using an old watch to move through timelines. Brad would be proud. Then he’d go after the variant to steal it for himself.
He made a checkpoint: a GPS location of the last spot the Variant was. Then, he made his merry way through the snow and back to his group.
Mobius stumbles into the clearing, secluded by the trees, where a couple of Minute Men and a few people to help OB with tracking are set up.
B-15 ran up next to him immediately. “Where did you go? I was looking for you and— damn!” She’d noticed his arm was bleeding, it looked worse than it actually was, to tell the truth, but it didn't stop it from hurting.
“It was the Variant,” he answered B-15’s question, then the next one which she was about to voice, “No, he didn’t snare me. I tripped over a tree trunk, which can technically mean it’s Loki showing off my destiny—”
“Don’t you make this into a joke.” B-15 snapped while limping him over to a tent they’d set up. “They” being B-15, really.
“Yeah, no idea where I was going with that one. Don’t think falling over my face is worth glory,” Mobius said passively. He listened as B-15 yelled orders to get a medic on the way, it was unprecedented that anyone would get hurt on this hunt— they had planned long range instead of close range— but leave it to Mobius to find new angles.
He heard the vague sound of a time door opening and a quick murmur of B-15 and OB clamoring to stop someone from entering. Mobius raised reached his bottom boot for one of his daggers—
“I don’t think you want to test me with daggers, Mobius.” he froze when he saw the blood.
“Oh, Norns , Mobius— How did you get snared? You were supposed to be at a distance,” Loki chastised and scanned him over.
“Yeah yeah, blame the trees! Not me! I’m injured, you're supposed to be nice to hurt people.”
“Not if they’re stupid!!” He heard B-15 call from outside.
“Hey, it was dark! I couldn’t see!!"
“Damn right, you couldn’t, old man…”
Loki placed a hand on Mobius’ shoulder to get him to stop moving about.
Loki’s other hand had conjured a pair of pliers, cutting away at points of pressure. Mobius noticed that he was barely wearing anything warm other than his usual Variant jacket which he, for some reason, still wore occasionally.
He wasn’t going to comment on it. The snow was what Loki was made for. Cold, harsh weather. Mobius had to deal with mumbled complaints all evening of Agents grumbling to return to the TVA's rushes of warmth. But Loki didn’t complain in the least bit when he was told where he was supposed to be. It was unusual because Loki would take any chance to complain and be a bother for the hell of it. But Mobius noticed something in the back of his eyes, recognition. It was one he saw when he watched Loki go down those stairs and lock the doors— leaving them separated for a time.
Even now he noticed those eyes, but not ones that had to see, but ones that had experienced. He wasn’t fine, but Mobius couldn’t be sure if it was over something he’d seen or the fact that Mobius was bleeding all over him.
“Sorry…” Mobius said halfheartedly.
“You should be, what’s a God like me supposed to do with a heart attack?” Loki got the last of the wires that had tightened, making it much easier to remove the rest without damaging any more of him.
“No, not for that, it wasn't my fault the trees grew the way they did. Your… clothes.” Mobius said, with a delusion of slickness. Loki smirked. The sleeves of his jacket were getting stained with blood— they didn’t do a good job of staying scrunched at his elbows.
“Oh course that’s what you feel bad about. Which you should be .” Mobius shook his head with a fond smile.
He watched as Loki gently cleaned his arm with some gauze. As he dabbed the blood away, the cuts disappeared as well, when he was done it was as if he’d never gotten hurt.
Mobius always marveled at him for his magic. He’d meant it when he said that he forgot that Loki is a god. Of course, he’d said it throughout his life, along with threatening words, but he’d never really allowed himself to be one. He never really used magic. It was really beautiful when he did, both in color and in feeling.
One time he explained it to Mobius when he pressed him about it.
“ It’s kind of like… you know when you get that tingly feeling whenever your feet go to sleep?” He whispered. It was night, Loki lay across the bed, arms tucked under his pillow, and hair askew. Mobius was finishing up with a file.
“Far too well.” Mobius replied, the file dipping from his light grasp on his fingertips.
“It’s like that. On bad days it’s like… static. My bones ached. The only thing I wanted to focus on was magic. But usually it was just a hum. A want. But a day never went by when I thought ‘Perhaps just a small spell? Father wouldn’t find out…’”
He’d gone on about a book he’d read in the restricted library. Mobius watched Loki sneak into the library but he still didn’t know how he did it.
Mobius stretched his newly healed arm and he followed Loki out of the tent, everyone was finally packing up to analyze information someplace warm.
Mobius glanced at Loki, watching him converse with OB about what he’d gathered. Loki had taken off his jacket and hung it on his arm. He was slowly rolling up his sleeves while nodding along to whatever OB was explaining. There was a mist collecting around the trees now and swirled over Loki’s pale skin.
“Gosh,” one of the Minute Women whispered, Mobius looked over at her. She was looking up at the trees. “It’s pretty now, but there'll be a storm later.”
Mobius stared at her until she went through the time door. His eyes wandered up at the misty, cloud-bearing trees. Little raindrops began to form, and as they fell they became snow and joined the powdery floor.
“Ready?” Loki asked. Mobius noticed him putting something in his pocket.
“What’s that?”
“Pretty rock,” Loki replied, then dramatically draped an arm towards the door, stepping out of the way.
“After you,” He smiled, a teasing grin. Mobius would have said a snarky comment back, he would have asked Loki to tell the truth about what was in his pocket, but his head was in the case and he decided that he may as well indulge him for now. He’ll talk whenever he is ready.
“Thank you kindly,” Mobius drawled. He took one last look at the scenery before him, and he looked up to the bright moonlight.
The moon looked back, and it was as if the stars were putting things in place.
The clock began to tick, and the trees danced in harmony.
---
Mobius was topping his pie with whipped cream while— surprise surprise!— reading a file when Loki strolled in.
“Hello there, darling!” Loki greeted, as he snatched up the file from the countertop.
“Hey— Loki!” Mobius sighed, reaching for the file that Loki hung over his head. Loki blocked him away with his shoulder, and his other hand revealed a cup of cocoa.
“It’s downtime. I need your unwavering love and affection and not this strange Variant,” Mobius sighed some more and took a sip of his cocoa which left traces of the foam topping on his mustache.
Loki laughed and held out a napkin for him. He sat on top of the countertop, his legs dangling just above the ground.
“This case is confusing…” Mobius mumbled as he took a bite of his pie. It truly was, they barely had anything to go on. At the forest they’d gotten lucky, Loki found a spike of unusual ticks of time being made. But the forest was all they had, and after all the planning of watching from afar had gone to waste after Mobius had fallen over, there was nothing more.
The file that Loki had hidden amongst one of the shelves was one of the smallest files he’d ever had to read.
They’d gotten a hit on the watch– it was from their own Antique Selection of Particular Watches: ASPW. Yes, it was a ridiculous name, when Mobius told Loki what it was called, he didn’t think he ever saw a look of an utterly unamusing expression better portrayed.
He watched Loki rummage through the fridge, opening both doors. Light cool air hit Mobius, he took a sip of his cocoa and shivered. Loki got out a bag, and slammed it quite hard on the counter.
“Jeez! Come on— what was that for?” Loki smiled fondly at Mobius.
“Why, it’s a bag of very cold strawberries, darling,” Loki replied, crushing the bag in his hands.
“Okay… why are we slamming frozen cold strawberries on the countertop?” Mobius asked as he watched Loki grab a large bowl.
“Just because I’m a god, doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a bit of food.” Mobius watched as Loki dumped most of the bag into what he thinks is a mixing bowl. Then he started eating the iced strawberries.
“Enjoying yourself?” Mobius asked as he took a slow bite of his pie.
“I’d enjoy myself more sitting on the couch. Hurry up, old man.” Mobius finished up his pie. Loki sat in the very corner with his legs out, and Mobius tucked himself close to him.
They turned on the television, flipping to a drama channel so that Mobius could enjoy Loki’s commentary against it.
Through Loki’s complaints, he heard the occasionally crunching sound. Loki hadn’t found it odd what he did, Mobius sure as hell wasn’t going to comment on it— if it wasn’t hurting anyone then it didn’t particularly matter.
But something nagged at Mobius, like a warning. Something was going to happen.
Mobius felt Loki placing the empty bowl on the floor, before shifting himself back for Mobius to get comfortable.
He looked up at the god, and what the minute woman said earlier rang in his mind.
It looks pretty now, but there'll be a storm later. He shook the thought out of his head and swallowed his anxieties.
He placed a kiss on Loki’s jaw and felt Loki press a kiss on his head. It will be fine.
---
Mobius was navigating the tall aisles of the file room. Loki was somewhere behind him, he wasn’t completely sure. He might’ve been the next aisle over, or maybe three over. But Mobius was too invested in this case.
Normally when Mobius got like this, Loki would force him into breaks. He would hide his tempad, steal his files, and distract him thoroughly with his mischievous grin. But this time he didn’t. He just let him do his research, and get lost.
Except it wasn’t like he’d been amusing him– there truly wasn’t anything he mused about. He’d spent nearly two hours in the Antique Selection of Particular Watches but all that did was make him hear the phantom tick-tock of clocks for the next hour.
Mobius thought it had to be an escape, a Variant breaking out of the TVA. But… he had a feeling it was more than that.
And it pissed him off when his brain saw what his eyes couldn’t.
He wandered through the file section, looking through sections of the drawers, glaring at letters, hoping that something would click. He heard the vague sound of Loki’s wandering feet, slowly making its way around.
Mobius eventually sighed and then made his way back to the front. There was another case that he could work on, it wasn’t this one alone that was keeping him busy but it was more keeping him distracted.
“Loki! We can go, get some lunch, or…” Mobius called. He walked his way to the entrance door. “Loki?”
“Be there in a moment,” Loki replied. Mobius hummed, he was probably looking through some of their own files and got curious.
Mobius swung his arms and let his eyes bounce around the room. They landed towards the front, with a section of different worlds. He glanced over it, then at the direction of Loki.
He’d seen his whole life, everything that he’d done. But he also saw how magical Asgard was. It wasn’t that he couldn’t go there, he absolutely could have jumped at the chance. But when he looked at those memories with Loki, he already felt so overwhelmed with the scenery.
He was more entranced with how Loki was so sure of every step he took. It was almost as if he and the Earth were conversing. Even when Loki’s world crashed down around him, even when he was finding out family secrets, Asgard, he was still sure of.
He looked over the sections of Asgard. It was one of the few areas where there were books instead of files. It wasn’t out of convenience, but some other agent had found a crashed-down kingdom with a paranoid leader. He’d kept many, many, ancient books there as well. And since it crashed down… Well, what’s the harm?
Mobius opened one up about mythological organisms. There was this one particular part of Loki’s home which had… ah yes. Ice-Drop Tulips.
They grew on the back of Asgard, the shady part. They didn’t drip water, but the way they grew made it seem it would be that way. In the summers, they would just seem like vines, lush in the shadows. But as it switched into Autumn, you could see little buddings, daring to open and splash you with water. As it came to the end of Autumn, there was a spread of them across the wall. In the winter, you'd expect them to drip water down like in the summer, but instead, they dropped down tufts of snow, pampering the ground. The vines would grow thicker, and if you had magic or were a Frost Giant? Then you could either weaponize the vines or save them for later hot summers; weather spells and potions.
He stared at a drawn picture of a Frost Giant. It was large, vigorous, and completely inaccurate. Frost Giants, strangely, had an air of beauty around them. Not through how they actually look, but how they stayed to themselves through the years. They didn’t really change who they were– they simply adapted as they needed to while keeping true to themselves and their ancestors…
He heard footsteps. They weren’t Loki’s– they were rushed. They weren’t wandering or still. Mobius opened his mouth to call for Loki, but it wouldn’t be any help if there was an unknown danger.
He moved silently away from the corner and went around towards the front doors. He scanned the room and listened attentively. It was too quiet. Way too quiet, his breathing was the loudest thing in the room. He waited, taking small breaths instead of loud heavings.
He heard the shuffle of a file. He went to the left, and he saw a glimpse of the Variant. Just the movement of the body. Mobius makes a run after them, scaling near the wall and looking through the aisles.
Arms grab for him.
Mobius is quick to throw a punch but his assailant is quicker. He holds him close and goes into the shadows.
“Mobius,” Loki whispers quietly. Mobius stops struggling and looks up at Loki, his arms are solid around him. He waits for Mobius to calm down and loosens his grip.
“Did you see them?” Mobius whispered softly. Loki shook his head.
“He went towards the mythology section,” Loki murmured. They both made their silent ways toward the mythology section. As they entered the first aisle, there was a file on the floor. They heard the front door shut loudly.
“Damn,” Mobius murmured. Loki moved away towards the door. Mobius went for the file. When he picked it up, a note fluttered out of it.
“They’re gone. Not here,” Loki came up behind Mobius. “What’s that?” Loki took the note from him.
“Remember? That’s dramatic…” Mobius laughed at that.
“You’d connect with them then.” Loki shoved him and smiled.
The writing was scrawled out in a rush. Remember. There were blotches of ink sitting on top of the paper instead of soaked. Mobius would have to send it to analytics— try to get a read on whose handwriting it was. It would probably give them an inch further into this confusing—
“Come on Mobius,” Loki says to him brushing his body against his while he makes his way around him. Mobius wasn’t as interested in the case anymore.
. . .
“Just a single note?” Sylvie huffed. “This is— it’s— remember what? Is there anyone that can speak in simple terms anymore?” Sylvie complained.
“Well ‘remember’ is pretty simple if you ask me.” Mobius grinned. He laughed as Sylvie threw him a daggering glare.
“Doesn’t make any sense, this variant. It’s like— they don’t present anything! They don’t— they’re not good and they’re not bad.”
“Weird idea, huh?” Mobius said quietly. Sylvie pursed her lips.
The thing about Gods of Mischief is that their entire being is based upon the idea of freedom. Causing a fuss, being annoying, or throwing daggers were the same reasons they ate berries or wore nice clothes. They didn’t particularly have to, but they were made to.
Only Time knows how much time Mobius spent trying to fathom the reasons why Loki did what he did or is doing what he does.
While studying his life, he found himself looking through the eyes of the Avengers, or any outsider for that matter. But the moment he looked for Loki’s reasons, the more everything he did seemed less and less like something destructive and some semblance of reasonableness.
He glanced over at Loki now. He was talking with B-15, probably just theorizing.
Mobius looked down to his lips, half trying to form the elegant words he was saying, and half staring at them. Imagining them.
He would probably relish in Mobius’ open staring, maybe even tease him. But Mobius couldn’t help himself, he was human. A selfish creature to be. Something he’d never been.
He felt his head pounding.
He went to wait outside. Sometimes his mind would wander farther than it needed to, and today was no different. Although, at the moment he would describe it more as his mind getting out of its ocean thoughts and onto the shore where winds hit against him with cold layers.
He thought about the word remember. There was a lot to remember, so much. This place was a castle of memories, a palace of lives. Mobius knew better than anyone, but he didn’t know much about it either.
His mind snapped back to the Variant. An annoying reoccurring thought because there was nothing to think of. The Variant had found a perfect imbalance, which was nothing at all.
The first time they’d gotten a read on this variant, it was only a matter of a slight disturbance in the vines. But even the slightest of things had a strong impact— so when Loki noticed it, they went.
He thought about the snow and the sneaking around of the variant. Their hurried steps were quiet yet steady. Dropping that file on the floor—
The file. He hadn’t checked what the file was.
The moment that he realized this, Loki walked out. Loki looked down at Mobius who was still reeling in his euphoric feeling of the prospect of new information and sat down next to him.
“We forgot to check the file,” Mobius said in a rush. Loki blinked. Then it seemed to dawn on him.
“Oh, right… we hadn’t.” He whispered. Mobius got up to go but Loki grabbed his wrist.
“Not yet, you know how the TVA is, they will have the file ready for you, you know Casey will hand it to you before he even opens it himself,” Loki said softly.
Mobius knew he had a point, it was a good point. But there was still, still something itching at him. He felt in a rush, a rush of how he felt when he first got to open a file to meet Loki, after a mysterious encounter with him from before he actually met him.
He felt Loki’s slim fingers tap his wrist softly. Not to grab attention but to keep from slipping. Slipping slipping slipping…
He looked at Loki, his brows furrowed. He realized that he wasn’t slipping because he was being focused, he was slipping because Loki wasn’t really there. He was more of an illusion than an actual being. Loki taps his wrist, Loki indulging in this nowhere-going case.
That other thought was bubbling to the surface once more. And though Mobius wasn’t able to touch on it— for Sylvie was calling for him— his answer was to present itself on its own.
Mobius took a breath and stood up, not willing to go. He turned towards Loki, and he did something bold— something that he would usually frown upon if someone else did it. He kissed Loki’s forehead.
When he pulled away, a shimmer of symbols danced upon his skin.
And there it was.
Loki looked at him and gestured his head towards Sylvie. He hadn’t noticed or felt it.
Mobius watched as Loki stood up to go. His stance was tall, out of the years of discipline by being a prince.
He didn’t let himself watch him go. Loki left an awful lot.
But he always came back.
---
People used to say he was cold-blooded. That his heart was made of ice, that he didn’t care for a soul.
It was funny how no one took him as more sensitive rather than cruel. Blood was never alive, the heart easily melted or shattered.
Being cold was a cruelty. It was a prophecy made true, it had been a long while since he welcomed a warm touch, even reached for it.
It wasn’t an interesting point in his life, it was simply a day-by-day experience, he had worse. He wasn’t even experiencing his day, he only remembered.
He remembered being in the snow and seeing Mobius’ arm bloodied up. It angered him, it made him want to run away into the cold and snatch himself back and beat him so he’d have the remembrance of pain.
But it would be no use if he’d done that, he was already in his pain.
He cleaned Mobius’ arm and silenced himself.
He let Mobius get caught off guard— it was quite a rare thing. He was ever so sure of himself and the floors he walked on.
He wished for surety as he stared at himself in the mirror.
His shirt was somewhere across the floor, he was sitting in cotton pants and looked at himself. He grew out his hair so it went past his shoulders, and it curled and sprawled around his neck. His skin was blue and true. Symbols danced across his skin of an ancient language that his soul could read.
Loki didn’t know what to think when he looked at himself. He knew it didn’t matter that he was a Frost Giant, not here. He was safe here.
What was he supposed to do with safety?
He was a god. Not a brag, not a plea for respect, not a demand. He. Was. A. God.
He was the God of Mischief. His demeanor was playful and his blood was wild— but this? It was a laugh in the face. It was him living up to be the absolute opposite of his brother, his soul tarnished with the myth of a monster.
There was nothing to feel about that other than the agony of what he felt long ago, of not belonging. But he was in a place where weirdness and loneliness were home, a place in which he could be blue or pink or any other color, and no one would flash an eye.
So really, it was about what Loki thought. Taking everything away, every story he’s heard, and looking at himself with not a single flaw.
He saw something familiar, something he’d always recognized. Not specifically something as cold, but something ancient– like old magic he’d read in the dead of night. On the top of his roof.
It was a journal. His father had sent out a recent mission against the frost giants, a scour of sorts. Whatever was found was to be killed. What ever.
His mind remembers the feeling of the crumpled paper, a note of what was etched on the ice, what he saw as he accompanied the group. It was to teach him. Sometimes Loki thought of what his father prepared him for and he wondered, why bother with it? It was as if he was asking him to hunt himself. He didn’t want to think of the morbid aspect of it.
But he paid attention. A tad much, and he spotted someone writing on the walls with a mere small rock. It turned his head over his shoulder and froze. A child, maybe older. Loki remembers the color of molten for his eyes, such a contrast from the environment around them.
He remembers how he turned away.
He passed by after they finished, and the young giant had written something in his old language, and Loki remembered so distinctly how his eyes danced over the poem. He remembers how his mind was able to read it like it’d been hungry for it.
Loki still had the paper. He’d gotten it when he was supposed to be chasing the pseudo-timeslipping version of his name. His writing was neat, careful. Loki took in every word that was written on the page. He didn’t unfold the paper, only sat with it folded in his hands. His palms squeezed it together as they had with every other secret he held.
He heard footsteps, quick and sure. He knew.
“Loki?” Mobius called from the door. He knocked first– ever so polite– before trying the door. Loki’d left it open. He saw no point in locking it, no one would come in here other than him.
“Hey, I needed to talk to you about…” Mobius saw him then, in all his frosty glory. Mobius gasped and Loki’s eyes flickered.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Loki asked, his voice soft like pillows. His mind was in the faraway lands of his home. He turned back towards the mirror, seeing his dark red eyes. Mobius entered the frame of the mirror, looking at him through it.
“Quite,” Mobius said, measured. He was trying to gauge him, trying to understand him. Loki’s shoulders relaxed at that. No one had ever presented him the courtesy as well as Mobius had.
“Did you figure it out?” Loki queried. Mobius laughed softly– but not quite– and slumped down on the floor next to him.
“That the variant was the timeslipping version of yourself and that you’re most definitely made to be the God of Mischief?” Mobius sighed, “Yes, I did.”
“Just making sure.” Loki murmured, a soft smile played on his lips. Mobius grinned at him.
“You really belong on stage, don’t you?” Loki grinned back. His whole life was living on a stage. As a prince, as a god, as himself.
“Sylvie and B-15 are going to chase me to my death aren’t they?” Sylvie most definitely would hang this over his head, regardless of their understanding of each other. She was petty, she didn’t give Loki pity often. B-15 would most likely tsk at him and leave him at the mercy of whatever Sylvie decided. So all in all, Loki would be okay. At least in that category.
“Well, that’s up for judgment. What was the story behind ‘ Remember ’?” He did air quotes around the word.
Loki hesitated. It was one thing to admit such a scandal, even if it didn’t matter anymore. He’d seen universes where the same thing had happened and the story went untold. He saw universes where he did tell people, but it was always someone random. A story to trick, a story to comfort. Never just a story to tell. But he lived in the luxury of being surrounded by people who were willing to listen.
He unraveled the piece of paper and handed it out to him. Mobius’ eyes were still attached to Loki, but he was a curious man. He turned his attention towards the paper. Loki huddled his knees together and placed his head on the side to watch him.
“ The prince of Jotun will not arise, ” Mobius read, startled. Loki nudged him to keep going.
“ He will tread the snow and tell daring lies
he will play a game, with a battle call
the skies will open, and the prince will fall
“ He will bore into the snow
His hair as dark as a crow
The prince of Jotun answers his cries
The fear of Jotun will uncover the spy
He will carry him up, deem him whole
Then have a connection, soul to soul.
‘My people will kill you; crows search for your carrion.’
The dead will die, and people will cry
The prince didn’t weep, nor will the spy…
Mobius left the last piece unsaid. Loki whispered it softly, letting out a secret long kept:
“ You’ve strayed far from your home, Asgardian. ” The silence in the room was loud. Mobius nudged him. Tell me.
“I never met the giant. Not yet, at least. But it will happen eventually.” Loki knew it would, his symbols flickered in memory. “But, I always hear him, in the back of my mind. Sometimes, at least. Even when I’d come here I couldn’t get rid of its rumbly words.” Loki spat out trying to find the words.
The two stirred in the silence of his words. Loki stopped burying his head in his knees and stretched out his legs. After a beat, Mobius reached out a hand to brush Loki’s hair out of the way.
“Huh,” Mobius smiled, “Figured my fingertips would turn into a popsicle…” He intertwined his fingers more firmly into Loki’s hair, and Loki would have purred at the touch.
“Leftover magic, perhaps. Or TVA rules, either or.”
“The greatest war of all, magic and rules. Most people say magic rules !” Loki crossed his eyebrows in confusion.
“Who says that?” Mobius’ hand went to his shoulder.
“Literally every person ever. More specifically to the people with card tricks– but people are always preening about which superpower they wished they had.” Loki grinned wickedly.
“That’s exactly how I learned!” He exclaimed.
It was funny how the two worked, one moment in a puddle of sadness and the next they were rainbows and bursts of sunshine. But it was mostly because of Mobius, and Loki relishing in how he wasn’t afraid. His nerves sang in relief, he wasn’t afraid.
Even more than not being afraid, he was admiring. He kept on staring at him, but that look in his eyes was familiar. It was the same look he got when they ate pie together, when they walked alongside in the rain. So many memories from when those blue eyes shined like the early summer waters.
“We really should get off the floor now…” Mobius murmured, leaning back. “Could use some light too…”
“The old man's back aches,” Loki tutted as he stood up, not dodging the shove against his arm.
“If I’m old, you're ancient. After all, your majesty, how old are you by now anyway?”
“... Younger than Thor…” Mobius laughed, but Loki knew that he was going to check his file. Honestly, Loki did not know how old he was, but he was sure it was about in the thousands.
But never in a million years did he expect such a reaction to how his being was. He was so used to people wanting to break open his secrets, so used to them forcibly attempting to get a look into the overflowing closet of skeletons.
But Mobius listened, and he continued to do so.
He had plenty of time for his story.