* NOT FOUR FINGERS AND A THUMB

EYES SHIFT TO A MEMBER OF THE PRESS ,       mingled creatively among the crowd. Not that she can fault anyone for garnering good press as her smile adjusts slightly. Premonition isn’t necessary to find the best route through.     “     Ah, yes. Forgive me.     ”

Of course there is another player in the game, and currently he has an audience to marvel over his new development in nanotechnology.     “     ——-    I didn’t know we were in a position to negotiate raises already.     ”

❝     I COULD GIVE STARK A SORE THROAT.     He’d lose his voice for one, maybe two weeks. Think about it     --- ---     no talking.     ❞     God, they ought to give him a Nobel Peace Prize.     ❝     That alone should be worth an extra ten days of vacation.     ❞

Stephen’s sigh is long - suffering as he takes another flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

The sound of glass splintering is enough to startle a few bystanders, but Thor blinks at Stephen, unfazed. Or, perhaps, rather fazed and single-minded. “What the fuck?” is all he can manage, a little too loudly. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to lash out. It’s not entirely unheard of – falling for one of Loki’s lies, nothing new; another Saturday night with Thor! 

“You mean to tell me,” he says very patiently. “That not only is Loki alive, but you just happen to know this information, and thought that now would be the best time to tell me?”

He needs another drink.

❝     CAN YOU THINK OF A BETTER TIME     ?     Seriously, I’m all ears.     ❞     Stephen is studying the bits and pieces of glass on the ground like they have offended him, personally.     ❝     I only found out the other day. Suffice it to say, I’m not interested in getting involved.     --- ---     If I can help it.     ❞

❛   Actions can be made as errant as words. We prefer the holistic approach.   ❜   Her drink is abandoned in favor of discrete notepad and pen,   ❛   Ours doesn’t have to be an antagonistic exchange, Doctor Strange. It’s presumptuous, but I can only assume we’re both on the side of truth.   ❜

About that pesky mincing words thing,   ❛   When did you know you wanted to take your solo act to the Avengers?   ❜   Those actions of his past not speaking loud enough then?

❝     TRUTH DOESN’T NEED ANYONE ON ITS SIDE.     This isn’t a schoolyard, Mrs. Lane. Ignore it, embrace it, it’ll catch up with all of us in the end.     ❞     A pause.     ❝     --- ---     Yes, you can quote me.     ❞

There is an ominous undercurrent to the proceedings that punctuates what should be a festive occasion. Stephen doesn’t like it.

“     SLIGHTLY BEFORE MY TIME.    ”       The admission is delivered without flare, deadpan working in tandem with a shrug,     “     Though grandmama did speak of it fondly.     ”     The man coughs, Natasha looks over to Stephen.     “     I don’t suppose you can foresee any exciting conclusion before some of these boys take out a measuring stick, do you?     ”

❝     GOD, I WISH.     ❞     Stephen rolls his eyes, his posture still as severe as ever despite the informality of his tone.     ❝     I don’t have magical powers, I use magic as a tool.     ❞

Besides, clairvoyance would only give him headaches far in advance of their offending occurrences. 

“My brother?” Thor’s grip on his glass tightens. He sometimes forgets how much the people of Earth know. But he supposes there are still some things that have been kept private. “Loki has been dead for quite some time now. Didn’t anyone tell you?” He downs his drink in one gulp. 

HER GAZE STAYS FIXED ON       a particularly ham-fisted gentleman currently leering over a waitress.   (   If there are ideations for his otherwise innocent, albeit annoying, behavior being halted with an unfortunate accident with his tie so be it.    )     “     I couldn’t disagree more,    ”     she volleys, blinking.     “     It’s the highlight of my year.     ”

❛    With little due respect, I’d better spend my time interviewing a toddler in the middle of their meltdown. You can still reason with that.   ❜    Half filled flute in her hand has remained untouched, used instead to gesticulate between Stephen and the Iron Man.    ❛    If your opinions are so vastly different, shouldn’t you want to have them separated from Stark’s?   ❜    Or fall on the sword of compliance, everyone had THAT choice at least.

It’s a more common request than one might think.

DR. STEPHEN STRANGE, PHOTOGRAPHED ARRIVING AT TONY STARK’S DIPLOMACY AND DILIGENCE GALA IN NEW YORK, NEW YORK 

HE MAINTAINS HER ATTENTION EVEN AS SHE LOOKS AWAY, a slow circling of backward steps taken to peruse the seemingly endless borders of crystalline surroundings.  Just beyond, distorted as if viewed through rippling water, Wanda can just make out the interior of a finely - appointed home, stone and dark wood and glittering skylights.  An absent flick of her fingers sends another dart of scarlet toward the nearest boundary, where it spider - cracks along the surface like hot lava peeking through broken earth.  Then, she smiles.

Then, she turns it on him, mouth moving once more.  ❝ — — How are you knowing this place ? ❞  Genuine curiosity colors her tone a matching warm color, almost childlike in the way she watches him with eyes gone cool brown again.

His question is framed in a way that illustrates his own limitation.  ( The Torah existed in the time before the world and the Torah will exist afterward, a blueprint of life in the hands of fallible beings and a story of how they will fail, and how they will rise. )  Wanda has no desire for Queen Esther’s knowledge.  ❝ No. ❞  If she had, they would not be here ; if she had, Pietro would be beside her.  Something suspicious edges into her tone.  ❝ — — If that is what you are wanting from me, I would not give you it anyway. ❞

❝     I WAS INTRODUCED TO THE MIRROR DIMENSION DURING MY TRAINING.     ❞     He is realizing that her suspicion runs deep. Stephen takes a moment to consider his next words ; altruism, like alchemy, cannot produce a damn thing without fair and even exchange.     ❝     Not long ago, I was a student of the Mystic Arts. Now, I protect this plane of existence from any and all external threats     --- ---     and some internal ones, too.     ❞

Standing still, as though a sudden movement may startle her, Stephen observes the broken mirror shards as they fall to the floor and then vanish.

NOTHING IF NOT POLITE ,       years of diplomacy dictating as such, she inches forward to pour them both a cup of tea as it is presented to them. A willingness for information over the exchange of swipes also plays a role in her tamped down annoyance at another willful misunderstanding towards the way in which her people live. 

“    My husband is a great man, he doesn’t have a talent for the minute details in recall.    ”

A sip offered, she pauses before retreating back to the plush cushions.    “    An ancient bloodline curse seems to be the sticking point. And has kicked up quite a bit of sand that has been tricky to deal with. I’m interested to know why you’re so interested.     ——-    However it’s phrased, I believe you are the horse’s mouth.    ”

❝     OH, I NOTICED.     ❞     Stephen takes the proffered tea, nodding with an appropriate amount of respect toward the royal currently occupying his study. 

(     Borders are etched by the conquests of yesterday’s worst atrocities, and Stephen does not think for one moment that Atlantis has somehow been immune to the bloodshed it takes to establish a nation. History is the memory of states, Henry Kissinger wrote ; we must not accept the memory of states as our own, Howard Zinn countered.     )

❝     Why am I interested in an unbreakable curse that latches onto bloodlines until it has wiped them clean off the face of the earth before moving onto its next victims, thus rendering it capable of reshaping entire dynasties as it goes     ?     Well, Days of Our Lives is on a mid - season hiatus and I suppose I got bored.     ❞

He sets the thin teacup down into its saucer, irritated by the way it knocks against the porcelain several times during its slow, deliberate descent.

❝     Prophecies don’t account for curses, your majesty. Prophecies represent Order, neat and tidy and clean. Curses are ... Chaos.     ❞