THE GOBLIN KING

                SIGHTS ON THE DANGER                                           AND HIS QUARRY IS HIT !!

He rolls his eyes, and stands. 

“I didn’t say tonight, now did I?” he asks, almost biting. The mood swings are different– more controlled. He’s doing it on purpose, trying to throw her off. There’s frustration, a hint of it just beneath the surface. 

She’s not reacting how he wants, and he still doesn’t have the patience for the long run, no matter how much he wants it. Perhaps that is where the issue lies, his wants. 

“There’s a gala in a few days,” he says. “Lots of people to suck up to, I’d like you there. But make sure to wear something nice, I’d hate for you to show up and have your presence scream ‘whore’.” 

He pauses, tapping his chin before turning back around to face her. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, running his fingers through her hair again. “How offensive. Whores get paid, don’t they?”  

Her mouth presses into a thin line as she falls part of the way into the couch, catching herself against the arm and sitting up straight again. Loki’s exhausted with this, and there’s no fight in her when she looks up at him, no reaction to the raised voice.

There’s even no reaction to the vicious way he tears into her ego, the way she used to take pride in her price. He’s pressing, he’s prying. Loki can only dodge it, and bring the game she plays to the world into this room, pretend to Norman as much as she’s ever pretended to anyone. 

He feels anger flash through him, and does his best to quell it before it gets the better of him. The serum, steady as it is of course, gives it away with his eyes blazing a shining emerald for a moment. It feels like she’s just giving up, and that’s just no fun. 

What’s the point of the game if there’s no fight left in her? After all, there’s nothing amusing about kicking an already dying dog. 

Jack White - Lazaretto