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Before you stands a man. He towers over you and you tremble as you look from his dress shoes to his dark trousers to his evergreen sweater, all the way up to his sharp, angular face and slicked back black hair. His eyes, blueish green but dominantly blue, quietly study you before he raises a finger to his lips, "[y/n], shh, you're going to alarm the neighbors." You immediately shut your mouth and your chest starts rising and falling rapidly as you feel an anxiety attack coming on.

You still manage to gasp out, "Y-you're L-l-loki… How did you g-get into my house? Wh-why?!"

He doesn't answer your questions but instead asks his own, his accented voice coming as alarmed. "Why are you breathing like that? Is that normal for Midgardians?" You wheeze and shake your head 'no', but when he steps towards you, you scramble back, unceremoniously tripping on a can of cat food and falling backwards onto your butt. You continue moving until your back is pressed against the door, and at that point you can't stop him from kneeling in front of you - the dreadful, horrible irony! - and reaching out a hand.

"D-don't touch me!" You squeeze the words out of your lungs in a shout, right before he does exactly what you tell him not to. He pauses.

"I thought I told you to be quiet, mortal. Now what are you fussing about anyway? It was you who commanded me here, was it not? I recall receiving a message along the lines of 'come and take me away from here or don't make me wake up'. Don't you want me here? It seemed you did when you welcomed me to sleep with you two nights in a row." Miraculously, your breathing is starting to become more regular, and you place a hand over your diaphragm to remind yourself that you are in fact still alive and also to not breathe through your chest.

"So you're the cat? Oh christ… you... you watched me get dressed, you dickwad! You perverted sonofa--"

His voice, before so low and smooth, cracks now when he shouts at you, "I did not watch you clothe yourself! Now did you or did you not command me here, mortal? Do not test me, my patience is running thin!"

Your face burning with the fact that he saw you naked, you mumble, "I… I did say that… but… I didn't think that it would actually come true… it was just a hopeless wish. Y-you aren't supposed to be real… I… You murdered people, s-supposedly…" No matter how much you love a character who was evil, a real life version in your home is much more deadly than a fantasy. You could be in danger, and you are terrified beyond belief.

"Yes, I have hurt people. Killed people. But aren't you the one who insisted that the God of Mischief was simply misunderstood?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Well it's somewhat true. My dear, I lusted for power as much as I craved my father's praise. I made mistakes and paid the price for them. I don't intend to harm anyone else."

"But that still doesn't explain why you actually came h-here…"

"Ah, yes, that. I was merely seeking something to do and asked Heimdall if any mortals were praying to the gods on that particular night. He found a few, but none of them were interesting. His sights landed on you eventually, and your mind fascinated me. Enchanted me. Your psychology works in ways that are different from most Midgardians I have encountered. It seems that you are stronger than all the rest of them."

"Oh, no, don't be crazy… I'm weak. You must be mistaken." Your voice has stopped trembling now, though you still huddle against the door, and are relieved that he doesn't try to come any closer to you.

"No, I am not mistaken. From what I can tell, your brain is commanding you to do awful things - things such as harming yourself, or taking your own life - but you are still alive. Most mere mortals are not that powerful." Your [e/c] eyes grow wide at his words, and you wonder how exactly he knows what you've been thinking and doing. You suppose Heimdall's sights reached so far as to learn that for him.

You clear your throat self-consciously, and pull yourself to your feet. Loki follows suit and asks curiously, "Am I allowed to stay?"

"I suppose," you reply, "But I don't trust you. For now, you're still the bad guy, and I need to keep an eye on you."

"Fair enough," he simply responds as he follows you into the kitchen. When you turn to face him, he holds out the bag of cat supplies.

You facepalm. "Wait, if you're no longer a cat, what am I even supposed to do with all this. I had to pay for it with my own money!" He glances down at the bag.

"I could try to get a refund for it, if you'd like."

"Oh no no no, you are not going into town. You need to stay with me."

"Then come with me, silly mortal. I don't think I can manage much when you're keeping an eye on me. Oh, unless I just used magic to stop you from doing anything." His tone is sarcastic and he rolls those blue eyes towards the ceiling. "If I wanted to hurt anyone or destroy anything I would have done it by now. Come with me if it makes you feel any better, though. Feel free."

You can feel your ears getting red with anger. Your suspicion is completely justified! He tried to wipe out an entire race! He murdered people! For all you know at the moment, he could be carrying out some long plan involving needing your house or something. Or he could be innocent, like he says. But alas, there's nothing you can do to figure it out, so you decide to at least go along with it and engage in this potentially dangerous game of wait-and-see.