Xephosia

I NEED AIR III. Loki stood, shivering, in the foyer of a shabby, seedy, and somewhat damp brownstone in the heart of Brooklyn. He was not far from where he woken up after his "nasty fall," and that pleased him. Loki would be near to a portal to Asgard, then, after all. Loki pulled his hand from his pocket to fiddle with the tie around his neck. He felt like he was choking, but Steve said he would soon get used to that. Steve had also assured Loki that the abnormally high, and tight, waist on his pants was the fashion. "Where are you from, again?" Steve had asked for the umpteenth time after he had taken Loki back to his cramped apartment

I NEED AIR II. When Loki opened his eyes all he could see was a gaunt young man leaning over him. He could feel two bony fingers pressing into the side of his neck, presumably checking for a pulse. Loki started to sit up, but the boy gently pushed him back down. “Hold your horses, pal, you just took a nasty fall,” the deep voice took Loki by surprise; the young man leaned into Loki’s space to look deeply into his eyes. The Jotunn scowled and knocked the boy’s hand away from his neck, irrationally angry. “Give me some air, boy,” Loki said in a low voice. “You know not who you’re dealing with.