A crease forms in Loki's forehead and he stops in his tracks, hands still up in front of him, tilting his head in abject confusion – most of which, to be entirely honest, is genuine. He's heard very many peculiar things come out of human mouths over the course of his long, long life, but this is almost completely new?

“You... you would do that? For me?” He puts on a tone of breathless wonderment, eyes widening as best they can with such swollen lids. But no, no, it's too funny, too utterly bizarre, and he has to laugh, a strange and awful sound bubbling up from his chest.

“You would protect me from the host of Asgard, from the end of all things, from my vengeance?” He moves towards them, hands falling to his sides. Heartbeats there. One, two. One body smaller than the other. Loki can feel them sparking.

“I'm afraid,” he says with a heavy sigh, brows drawing together in an expression of remorse, of pity, “you cannot. Nor would I have you. I go to die today; as soon as the eye of Asgard turns upon me, I go to die.”

Forward. Closer. Close enough to smell them, soon enough. “Listen to you, your hearts beating like rabbits; reasonable; but you do lie well, for a human. Tribute or happenstance?”

The latter, likely. “I doubt you even know my name.”