The sun was a rare comfort after the chaos of Klyntar, its warmth seeping into your skin as you lay stretched across a beach chair, letting Earth's ocean breeze carry away the stench of symbiotes and battle. The rest of the team had scattered along the shore, some lost in their own celebrations, but you were content to breathe for once, eyes half-lidded under the lazy afternoon light. That peace, however, never lasted long. You sensed the shift before you heard it: soft footsteps in the sand, too purposeful, too deliberate to be casual.

Loki Odinson's shadow fell over you, the Trickster God's smirk as sharp as ever, though there was something unspoken in the way his gaze lingered. "You looked tense," he said. "I thought a bit of company... and perhaps a massage, might ease your troubles. Of course, for a price."

His voice dripped with charm, casual yet coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Loki had been unpredictable since the entanglement fractured time across the multiverse, his motives as murky as the timelines themselves.