"Child, you're awake—drink your porridge." Just as Loki was about to say something disparaging about Alex Ray, he was interrupted by Grandma Lin.
Loki looked up. Grandma Lin was holding a steaming bowl of porridge in her hands, her eyes full of maternal warmth and kindness.
An indescribable feeling welled up in his chest. In that moment, it was as if he saw a vision of his long-lost mother reflected in her eyes. That softness… that nurturing calm. It tugged at something deep inside him, and before he realized it, he found himself instinctively leaning closer.
He hadn't expected much from the bowl of porridge—it looked humble, probably lacking in nutritional value.
But something about Grandma Lin's expression broke through his cynicism. Without thinking, he reached out and took the bowl from her.
Her smile deepened as she handed it over, her eyes shimmering with encouragement and patience.
Loki warred with himself internally. I must be insane, drinking porridge made by some stranger in a rundown house. But then again, perhaps this porridge was her gesture of goodwill—her token of affection. And turning it down somehow felt… wrong.
Resolute, he closed his eyes and took a sip as if bracing for poison.
To his surprise, it wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was warm, subtle, even comforting.
Loki's eyes fluttered open. He looked down at the bowl, then up at Grandma Lin.
This wasn't just ordinary porridge. Somehow, it had turned into a comforting elixir, tasting less of grain and more of solace. He continued eating, spoonful after spoonful, as if consuming something his body and soul had long been deprived of.
"If it tastes good, have more, child," Grandma Lin said warmly. "You look pale—must've been starving."
She watched him intently, her gaze brimming with concern, as if she were watching over her own grandson.
Loki's eyes flicked away. He wasn't used to this. Not this warmth, not this uninvited care.
A strange discomfort crept over him. He'd grown accustomed to the cold, to isolation. This sudden kindness left him feeling vulnerable.
"…Thank you for saving me," he mumbled, his voice strained.
And with that, he turned and headed toward the kitchen's exit.
His steps quickened, almost like he was fleeing.
At that moment, America stepped forward and whispered to Grandma Lin, "His name is Loki."
Grandma Lin nodded. "My child, if you have nowhere else to go, this house is your home. It's simple, but as long as you don't mind, there will always be a hot meal and a warm bed waiting for you."
Loki froze in the doorway.
He turned, and for a moment, his eyes lingered on Grandma Lin. Emotions swirled behind his gaze, but he said nothing and quietly slipped out of the kitchen.
Not far from the old house, Loki stopped and turned around, staring back at the run-down structure.
"Humans really are idiots," he muttered. "Helping others when they can barely care for themselves."
He clenched his fists. "A bunch of frail, sickly people trying to save me. Do they even know what I'm capable of? Do they not fear I could be some monster?"
Loki's brow furrowed. "Are all Earthlings this naive?"
He didn't understand. Grandma Lin had almost nothing—meager resources, a dilapidated home—and yet she insisted on taking in strays. Kids. Strangers. Him.
If she had been alone, she could've lived a better life. But instead, she'd chosen this burden.
And what good were these kids? Useless, helpless, liabilities. What could she possibly gain?
What disturbed him most was that seeing Grandma Lin stirred memories of his own mother. That was something he didn't want to feel.
Loki didn't understand it.
If Alex Ray were here, he might've said: That feeling you're having is called guilt.
"Not everyone is as selfish as you," came America's voice behind him.
Loki turned. She was standing nearby, eyes distant. "Kindness isn't stupidity. Selflessness… it's a rarity in Brooklyn nowadays."
Loki didn't reply.
"If it weren't for Grandma Lin, those kids would've either starved or gotten caught in some gang crossfire. That includes you and me," she added.
"I passed out in Brooklyn once. She found me. Took me in. That's why I stayed—to repay her."
Her gaze drifted toward the children playing in the distance.
"…Don't you want to go home?" Loki asked quietly. Something in his gut told him this girl had her own scars.
"Home?" America murmured. "I don't even know if I have one to go back to. But for now, this is it. This place. These people."
She looked him in the eye, and Loki found himself shifting uncomfortably. He glanced away.
Desperate to change the subject, he scoffed, "You liked Hell's Kitchen so much—why not take the kids there? Didn't they say that bastard Alex Ray would support the orphans?"
America glanced toward Hell's Kitchen.
"Yes, Alex will take them in. Once we arrive, the kids will be placed in an orphanage. Grandma Lin will go to a specialized care facility. And I'll probably end up at Hell's Kitchen Community College."
Loki blinked, surprised. "Sounds pretty damn generous for a guy with two Infinity Stones."
"It is," America said. "But none of us want that outcome."
Loki frowned. "Why? Sounds like a better deal than this crumbling shack."
She tilted her head. "Do you have a home, Loki?"
That made him pause.
Did he?
Was Asgard still his home? Or was that just a fading memory?
"Is a shattered home still a home?" America asked softly. "None of us want to be split up. Not the kids. Not Grandma."
Loki remained silent. He could conjure illusions, plot rebellions, trick gods—but this? This was not his arena.
"…So where will you go, then?" she asked.
He had no answer. And there was no point lying. The girl would've known.
"If nothing else, stay a few days," America said gently. "Be a big brother to the kids. That's how you repay Grandma Lin for saving your life."
She looked him over. "Besides, you're practically a kid yourself. No tattoos. No ID. No money. Who else would take you in besides someone like her?"
Loki huffed and walked off.
"Hey! Where are you going?" she called after him.
"Isn't it obvious?" he shouted back. "I'm going home."
"You're… not leaving?" she asked.
"Not leaving."
"Then come help out tomorrow!" she called cheerfully.
Loki stopped and turned around, aghast. "You want me—the second prince of Asgard, the God of Mischief—to do manual labor?!"
. . . . . .
"Ah-choo!" Alex Ray sneezed violently.
"Who's talking shit about me right now?!"
"Is the Infinity Gauntlet ready yet, Tony?!"
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