Her eyes widened.
"Not literally... well, at least not on Midgard. Down here, anything is possible."
She scanned the area, as if waiting for someone to jump out and attack her. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
“Are you cold?”
She nodded.
“I’ve been here so long I forget most immortals visiting aren’t used to the cold.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
Thor took her hand and rounded a corner on autopilot. He'd made the trip so many times from the Raven Weaver to his home that he'd done it blind drunk in the past.
They rounded another corner, and he slowed as his shop came into view.
Elle slowed. "A closed business?"
"It’s mine. I fix and build motorcycles. I have an apartment upstairs."
"Oh," she paused for a moment. "What's a motorcycle?"
He looked back at her. She really had been sheltered. "An automatic bike which has a motor on it so you don't have to pedal."
Thor stopped outside the door of his shop.
Elle noticed his sign and smiled. "Mjölnir Motors."
The way she said it surprised Thor. Her pronunciation spot on. He'd never met anyone outside of Asgard who pronounced it correctly. And most of the people there couldn't do it.
He opened the door, flipped on the lights, and they walked onto the shop floor.
A row of vintage motorcycle frames hung along the far wall on iron hooks, their metal bones stripped down to raw steel, each one tagged with a handwritten work order in Thor's blocky script. Below them, a long steel workbench ran the length of the shop, cluttered with socket wrenches, torque gauges, and a half-empty mug of black coffee gone cold hours ago. The air tasted like motor oil and old rubber. Overhead, industrial pendant lamps buzzed against exposed ductwork, their glow bouncing off the polished floor in pale squares. Outside, a steady breeze drummed against the roll-up garage door. A partially rebuilt V-twin engine sat exposed on the center lift, its cylinder heads removed and laid out on a shop rag in precise order- crankcase, pistons, valve springs- each piece gleaming with fresh oil. He gritted his teeth, realizing he’d forgotten to put down a tarp to catch any drips from ruining his floor. He hated not finishing a job.
"You don't lock your door?" Elle asked.
"No reason. No one here would dare come in without permission."
She smiled. "Guess everyone is scared of you."
He wasn't sure what his expression showed, but her smile fell, making him want to punch himself for having upset her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
What the hell was wrong with him?
"Come on." He took her hand and led her across the floor as he headed for the backroom. She shrugged off his leather coat and handed it to him. He hung it on a wall hook.
"Are these your motorbikes?" She ran her fingers over his favorite bike, making his jeans grow tight as he imagined her fingers running over his skin instead.
He coughed, trying to cool himself down. "Yeah. One is called Tanngrisnir, and the other is Tanngnjóstr."
Her eyebrows drew together for a moment. "Wait. You turned your two beloved goats into motorcycles?"
He folded his arms over his chest. "You sure do know a lot about me."
"Well..."
The flustered expression on her face made Thor smile. Could she be more adorable?
