Frostbite

Brilliance

Peter was a brilliant child.

Loki wasn't blind to the boy's nerves, to his caution, to the way his fingers wandered to those odd black bands encircling his wrists. He never thought the boy would equate Lora and Loren so quickly when there truly was nothing to equate, but the brain that ran behind wary doe eyes had puzzled out similarities and inconsistencies and—

He led his son out of the building and onto the sidewalk, his pride a swelling thing in his chest. "Are you hungry?"

Peter startled and glanced up. "Oh, uh, I could eat?"

"Come, then. There is a stall nearby that procures these exquisite 'rice bowls' that may curry your favor." Loki eyed the lingering doubt in that young face and sighed. "After then, I will tell you all you wish to know. But for now, will you lend your trust to me once more?"

Peter fiddled with his jacket sleeve as he glanced at the people that passed them by. There was something churning in that head, thinking, thinking—how much genius was hidden in that thinking, he wondered—before they locked eyes. "You'll tell me the truth? All of it?"

"So I shall swear."

"...Okay. Um, but can I pick where we talk?"

"Of course." It surprised Loki to no end that it was all the boy demanded, though the lack of anger and confusion had surprised him even more. "Wherever you so choose."

It was after they had acquired a brown paper bag of rice bowls did Peter pull out his cellular device. "There's this place in Manhattan that'll be good for us to talk and I don't think there's going to be anyone there to bother us." He tapped his screen a few times, presumably sending one of those 'texts' to someone in his contacts. "And—cool! Our ride'll be here in ten minutes." He shifted his arm around the bag, insistent of being the one to carry it if he wasn't allowed to pay for it, and glanced up nervously. "Um... Mr. Loren? Or should I call you Ms. Lora? Or, uh..."

Loki allowed him to flounder a bit longer before taking pity on the embarrassed flush on the boy's cheeks. "You may call me by the name of whom you perceive," he said, a slight quirk to his lips. "Though there is another name I go by that may be easier for you to use, but you may not choose to due to its... connotations."

"If you don't like the other name I won't use it."

"It is not that I dislike the name, it is that others simply would not react well to it. Though I could not care less of their reactions, it is easier to not deal with it at all."

Peter frowned. "That's kind of dumb. If it's your name and you like it, it doesn't matter what other people think, right?"

Loki couldn't stop the small smile that grew on his face. "Your words are kind, child. I am truly unfit for it."

Peter didn't know what to say to that. So, he returned that small smile with a shaky one of his own and glanced down at his device. The little screen lit up and a picture of him and another chubbier boy with a wide grin took up the space.

A translucent white box popped up.

trunk body: Here!! Your friend, Dopinder. [5:12 pm]

trunk body: I am the taxi parked in front of the Blue Honda. Your friend, Dopinder. [5:12 pm]

Trunk body? What an odd sense of humor.

He followed Peter to the bright yellow taxi a few steps away just as a cheery man leaned out the driver's window. The man was young, much older than Peter though perhaps around the same age as the barman at that run-down tavern.