"Looks like Val is not far behind," Loki prodded.
He was going to lose his shot. "Deal." Thor jumped from the table and headed for the stairs. He hit the bottom when he heard Loki's voice behind him.
"Well, Val, fancy meeting you here," Loki said loudly.
Thor didn't wait for a reply, but he got the feeling Loki would have helped Thor for a chance to talk to Val without ale or favor attached.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the top as Elle put the key in the lock of one of the doors.
"Elle."
She jumped. "Th- Thor. Did... did you need something?" She pulled the key from the lock and backed up a step.
He slowed his pace and held up his hands. "I wanted to talk to you."
She scanned the hallway like a scared rabbit. "All right." She dropped her gaze and let her hair fall over her face.
He stopped in front of her, his boots scraping softly against the carpet. The sounds from the bar below barely hummed in the background. He wondered if Frigg had magicked the apartments so they weren’t bothered by the sounds. His heart hammered, a wild and erratic rhythm, as though it had forgotten he’d ever spoken to a woman before. If anyone had asked him moments earlier, he would have claimed to be confident- charming even- but standing face-to-face with her, every practiced word he'd rehearsed over the last day evaporated like the morning mist.
Her hair, a cascade of beautiful fiery spirals, swayed with her movements. He couldn't help but notice how the golden undertones caught the light, shimmering like a flickering fire.
When he truly looked into her eyes without the obstruction of her mask- it was as if he’d stepped into an entirely new world. They weren’t just green; they were flecked with tiny bursts of amber and gold that seemed to dance. She didn’t look at him- she studied him, peeling back his layers with quiet curiosity. He’d never felt more exposed and yet oddly seen, as though she read every thought racing through his mind.
Close enough now, her scent reached him: a mix of freshly poured ale and something darker, smokier- a whisper of charred cedar lingered on her skin. It wasn’t cloying or sweet like the perfumes other women wore; it was raw and earthy, grounding him as it stirred something primal deep within his chest. He swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his throat and forced himself to speak.
“You’re…” His voice cracked, betraying his nerves. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You’re not what I expected.”
“And what did you expect?” she asked, her voice smooth but laced with amusement.
“I-” He hesitated, raking a hand through his hair. The words heavy on his tongue, unrefined and inadequate. “I don’t know. I mean… not this.” He gestured toward her like a fool, then regretted it. “Not you.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Not me?” she echoed, tilting her head to one side. A strand of hair fell across her cheek, and before he thought better of it, he reached out to brush it away.
His fingers froze an inch from her skin when he realized what he was doing. He let his hand drop back to his side, heat blooming across his face.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I didn’t think…” He trailed off again, cursing himself.
“Would what?” she pressed.
“Would speak to me again,” he admitted.
For a moment, she didn’t respond. Her eyes searched his face. Her brilliant green eyes narrowed as though weighing his sincerity. “Why not?”
“After how your friend acted and spoke to me, I figured she managed to warn you off me.”
“Warn me off?”
His gut clenched. He couldn’t tell if she was really as innocent as she sounded, or if it was a ruse of some sort.
“Yes. You know, Thor Odinson, bedder of women. Eternal Playboy. Loner who never wants attachments.”
Her eyes widened. “So, you sleep with lots of women?”
“Yes. I mean no. Well, yes, I used to centuries ago, but not in a long time.” Why had he said that? What in the nine realms was wrong with him?
“But that’s common knowledge about you?” she asked.
This was not the way he thought this conversation would go. Why was he talking about women he’d bedded? What was wrong with him?
