Not that he's surprised by the fact that she's hit him. Not in the least. It is, honestly, fairly straightforward and even kind in comparison to what he deserves. On a broader scale.
No, he's not surprised that she does it. What surprises him is that it hurts, just as if Captain Rogers or his own brother had thrown the punch instead. He winces as he recovers, tonguing his cheek with a slight grimace, but his mind (and his libido) are both reeling from the implications.
Natasha could actually hurt him. That's kind of exciting. Is it because of who and what she is or because of who and what she is to him, now?
Does it matter? ]
Well. [ He rubs his jaw. ] I suppose I deserved that.
[ "I suppose" because despite all else he is still a proud creature, and because. Well. He wonders if she'll walk out now that she's done that. ]
[ There's a soft huff that's blown out through her nostrils as she steps back from him, crossing her arms in front of her. Her own knuckles throbbed in a way she had been trained to ignore back as a child. But there was something about how deep the pain went that had her trying to focus on anything else.
The red thread between them glowed and seemed to pulsate in time with the throbbing of her hand. ]
What are you doing here? Let's establish that, first.
[ Loki clears his throat and simultaneously attempts to clear his mind a bit from the mix of arousal and hesitation currently swirling around in there. ]
Here as in Wakanda or here as in... [ He gestures toward the worktable. ] Trying to help is the answer either way.
[ She only realizes belatedly that she should've specified which, but his answer suffices either way. Looking at the table again - taking in all the bottles and vials and different colored fluids. ]
Help how? All you're missing here is a bubbling cauldron.
[ Her smirk might not reach her eyes (and he might be feeling some kind of way about that in particular) but his eyeroll is pretty genuinely exasperated. ]
It would be easiest if I knew anything about what you already know regarding magic; however, since that is clearly not a possibility...
[ A sigh. How to explain without being pedantic? ]
Everyone has skills. Things they believe themselves to be better at than most others they know. The magic I am working on would support those skills, whatever they happen to be; it's very broad because this is a large fight, and anything too niche, too specific, will likely not help us at all.
[ Thor and Wanda are the closest and most extensive knowledge of magic she has been exposed to. This? This is new but not hard for her to understand. ]
So... you're enhancing people's abilities?
[ She makes a sound that almost sounds impressed. Both by how he's thinking and the fact he's helping them at all. ]
[ She feels a corner of her mouth twitch at that, almost amused he was thinking almost along the lines she was. He actually does seem to be trying. ]
My reflex is to say "no".
[ She adds: ]
However, we'll need every advantage we can get for this battle, so, I will say "yes".
[ She finally looks back to him when she arrives at her affirmative answer. If it really can enhance her skill set to fight better, for longer, whatever else it does, it could only help their chances. ]
Alright. For a test, we should only use a little, so you can tell when it has begun and when it's ended.
[ He picks up a small dropper from the table and collects a few drops of liquid from one of the vials that has been set aside, a clearly completed component of this project. ]
Under your tongue would be fastest, but against your wrist will work just as well, [ He explains as he hands her the dropper. There are four drops in it, maximum. ] I'd actually be interested in hearing what it feels like, for you.
[ Natasha feels herself hesitate after being handed the dropper. But the encroaching anxiety of Thanos coming is enough to shove through her caution.
She sticks the dropper in her mouth, lips around it. She moves her tongue enough to get the drops under it. As Natasha hands it back to him, she is grateful for doing it that way. The taste of it, how little of it she can taste, is a strange combination of bitter and sweet and something else she can't describe. ]
How long does it usually --
[ Her words cut off and as it hits, feeling a strange if noticeable pull through her whole body. Senses curling inward and then expanding out, out. Her vision become sharper, colors stand out more. She can hear his breathing and people outside. The taste of rust, sand, water, and flowers enters her nose and plants itself on her tongue.
[ He nods a little, then furrows his eyebrows in thought. ]
Most recently? Nineteen-seventy-something, I think? It's best to refresh on the languages you bother to learn at least once a century, I've found, or else you come across as someone's ancient grandparent from the old country.
[ Natasha almost looks impressed at him. Almost. She doesn't want to give him too much credit, even as she flexes her arms, feeling the new power in them. Whatever he did, it seems the real deal. ]
You made it a habit of coming to Earth that often?
[ She would've assumed "never" was more his schedule. ]
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no subject
Not that he's surprised by the fact that she's hit him. Not in the least. It is, honestly, fairly straightforward and even kind in comparison to what he deserves. On a broader scale.
No, he's not surprised that she does it. What surprises him is that it hurts, just as if Captain Rogers or his own brother had thrown the punch instead. He winces as he recovers, tonguing his cheek with a slight grimace, but his mind (and his libido) are both reeling from the implications.
Natasha could actually hurt him. That's kind of exciting. Is it because of who and what she is or because of who and what she is to him, now?
Does it matter? ]
Well. [ He rubs his jaw. ] I suppose I deserved that.
[ "I suppose" because despite all else he is still a proud creature, and because. Well. He wonders if she'll walk out now that she's done that. ]
no subject
The red thread between them glowed and seemed to pulsate in time with the throbbing of her hand. ]
What are you doing here? Let's establish that, first.
no subject
Here as in Wakanda or here as in... [ He gestures toward the worktable. ] Trying to help is the answer either way.
no subject
Help how? All you're missing here is a bubbling cauldron.
no subject
And I suppose in your broad understanding of magic there's no way in which any of this would be helpful, cauldron or no?
Ask better questions.
no subject
Give better answers. Maybe you'll be able to broaden my understanding.
no subject
It would be easiest if I knew anything about what you already know regarding magic; however, since that is clearly not a possibility...
[ A sigh. How to explain without being pedantic? ]
Everyone has skills. Things they believe themselves to be better at than most others they know. The magic I am working on would support those skills, whatever they happen to be; it's very broad because this is a large fight, and anything too niche, too specific, will likely not help us at all.
no subject
So... you're enhancing people's abilities?
[ She makes a sound that almost sounds impressed. Both by how he's thinking and the fact he's helping them at all. ]
no subject
[ A sigh. A shrug. ]
We'll see if it works. Do you want to try it?
no subject
My reflex is to say "no".
[ She adds: ]
However, we'll need every advantage we can get for this battle, so, I will say "yes".
[ She finally looks back to him when she arrives at her affirmative answer. If it really can enhance her skill set to fight better, for longer, whatever else it does, it could only help their chances. ]
no subject
[ He picks up a small dropper from the table and collects a few drops of liquid from one of the vials that has been set aside, a clearly completed component of this project. ]
Under your tongue would be fastest, but against your wrist will work just as well, [ He explains as he hands her the dropper. There are four drops in it, maximum. ] I'd actually be interested in hearing what it feels like, for you.
no subject
She sticks the dropper in her mouth, lips around it. She moves her tongue enough to get the drops under it. As Natasha hands it back to him, she is grateful for doing it that way. The taste of it, how little of it she can taste, is a strange combination of bitter and sweet and something else she can't describe. ]
How long does it usually --
[ Her words cut off and as it hits, feeling a strange if noticeable pull through her whole body. Senses curling inward and then expanding out, out. Her vision become sharper, colors stand out more. She can hear his breathing and people outside. The taste of rust, sand, water, and flowers enters her nose and plants itself on her tongue.
And her body feels... distinctly lighter. ]
Yebena mat'.
no subject
(But will it be enough? That's the real question, isn't it?)
He clasps his hands behind his back and smiles. ]
Ale ya ne trakhav tvoyu matir. Hopefully. [ A nosewrinkle. ] That would be a complication I would rather not have. How do you feel differently?
no subject
Confident that I could now throw you across the room if that "complication" were true.
[ Adding, jerking her chin slightly to him, ]
When did you learn Russian?
no subject
[ He nods a little, then furrows his eyebrows in thought. ]
Most recently? Nineteen-seventy-something, I think? It's best to refresh on the languages you bother to learn at least once a century, I've found, or else you come across as someone's ancient grandparent from the old country.
no subject
You made it a habit of coming to Earth that often?
[ She would've assumed "never" was more his schedule. ]