She waited, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. "What, then?" she asked, shifting to walk backwards while holding his gaze. There was a smile on her lips, enjoying the conversation more than perhaps she should, but unable to pretend otherwise. "What did happen?"
"Are you certain you want to know?" he asked, stepping forward suddenly to take her by the shoulders and pull her out of the way of an oncoming pedestrian. He pulled her to a stop there on the sidewalk, his hands still clutching her shoulders, his gaze studying hers.
Pulled to a halt, Kris' smile faded abruptly, her hands automatically leaving her pockets to press against his chest. Just in case. But some part of her knew he wouldn't hurt her. "No, I am not certain that I want to know," she told him honestly. "I think I need to know. To have your own history kept a secret from you ... it is a terrible thing, Loki."
His lips twitched, but not into a smirk so much as a frown. "It is not of my doing, Kristanna. If I had known ..." He trailed off, that frown deepening. What would he have done, if he'd known? Would he have come for her? Even if he had, what would he have done for her? He sighed, letting go of her shoulders and turning his gaze away, as if he didn't want her to see the pain in his eyes. "I had a daughter once. You may have heard of her. Her name was Helge. Or at least, that is the common pronunciation of her name. But they changed it to Hel and cast her out of Asgard to rule the Underworld. She was much like you, my Helge. But the Asgardians scorned her because she was not like them."
"Hel?" Kris frowned, a sudden concern rising in her eyes. "She was not also known as Persephone, was she?" she asked, worried now that someone she knew had been responsible for the death of her god's daughter. That would certainly put her in a terrible position.
"No, they are not the same," he replied, easing her worries without really knowing what those worries were. He matched her frown, his heart still grieving the loss of his only daughter. "I am not sure why I mentioned her, except that you remind me of her a little."
Without quite understanding why, the sight of his grief tugged at her heart. Kris softened the touch of her hands against his chest, her palm shifting to lie over his heart. "Is there no way you can see her again?"
"No, she's ..." He swallowed, as if he could not bear to say the word. "She's gone, like so many others," he said, not bothering to explain what he meant by that, as if she should know that already. He drew a deep breath in an attempt to push the grief aside, and took her hands between his, a strained smile on his face. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to upset you."
"You did not upset me." She shook her head, letting him take her hands even as she closed the small distance between them, nose to nose, eye to eye. "I do not like to see you in pain. But you are not alone, Loki. I know I am only mortal, but I am yours."
"I am not sure what that means," he confessed quietly. It had been a long time since he'd had any devotees and even longer since anyone had claimed to care for him.
"I was given to you before I was a day old," she reminded him softly. "Though I did not know it, everything I have done was done for you. Everything I will do, will be done for you. You are my home. Even if you should reject me, I will still be yours."
"I will not reject you," he assured her. "But I need some time to-to sort things out." And to figure out what he was supposed to do with her. He studied her quietly a moment, as if debating what more he should tell her. "You have a right to know the truth about your past, but ..." He frowned again, as he took a quick look around. "I do not wish to tell you here."
"Oh!" Guilt colored her expression again as she shook her head. "I did not mean to pressure you in any way!" she insisted, squeezing his hands for a brief moment. "Everything should happen in its own time, certainly." She nodded, dredging a smile from somewhere. "I promised you lunch, that is what I intend to give you."
The strained expression on his face eased into an almost relieved smile. "Yes, a hot dog," he reminded her, that sparkle of amusement returning to his eyes. "Shall we?" he asked, letting go of her hands, but instead, offering her his arm.
Pleased to see him smile, Kris let her tension fade as her own smile relaxed, curling her arm through his. "A god and a gentleman," she teased him. "I wonder what else you are?"
"I think you know well enough," he replied, assuming his reputation spoke for him. Though many of the stories told about him were nothing but lies, some of them were based on truth.
"I could make some guesses," she conceded in quiet amusement, leading him into a park. "But I think it would be more fun to discover it for myself. Unless, of course, you forbid fun." She gave him some rather impish side-eye, daring him to tell her she could never have fun again.
"No, of course not!" he was quick to reply. "I am the God of Fun," he added with a sly wink. Wasn't mischief equated with fun, after all, so long as it didn't bring any harm to anyone?
"Ah, but not all fun is mischief," she countered cheerfully, steering him along the slightly icy path toward the hot dog vendor's steaming cart. "You might have views on fun that is not mischievous."
"And what views might those be?" he asked curiously. He could probably guess where her mind was headed, but he didn't want to assume.
"Oh, you may forbid it entirely unless it takes place in your company." She flashed him a grin, slipping her hand from his arm to pull her wallet from her pocket as they reached the vendor. "Hi! Two hot dogs, mustard and onions, please."
He arched a dark brow at both her reply and her hot dog order. "Is that how a hot dog is traditionally served?" he asked of the mustard and onions. He'd never had a hot dog, after all, and had no idea of all the various toppings and versions they could be found in.
"I believe so," she mused. "It is the way I like them, anyway. You could also have tomato sauce, I understand. Or without sauce or topping." She handed him his hot dog wrapped in a napkin, taking her own and handing over payment to the vendor. "Thank you very much."
"This is a hot dog?" he asked, as she handed him the sausage-like piece of meat, smothered in mustard and onions and resting inside some sort of soft roll. There was only one way to find out if he'd like it or not, and so, he took a bite, quietly contemplating the taste before nodding his head in approval.
"It is." Kris watched him take his first bite, smiling at the look on his face as she took her own. "I am a little addicted to hot dogs, I must confess. If it was not ludicrously bad for me, I would have them for every meal."
"That is a bit much," he said, with a smirk of his own before taking another bite. "They are rather like sausages, aren't they?" he asked, though it was a rhetorical question.
"They are a form of sausage, but the meat is usually chicken flavored with pork," she told him with a grin. "Not a proper sausage, of course. But the salty taste makes them very more-ish."
"More-ish?" he echoed, brows arching upwards, unsure what she meant by that. "More-ish like a sausage?" he asked, uncertainly. Wherever he'd been hiding for the last few centuries, or perhaps even millennium, it certainly hadn't been any place where hot dogs were commonly found.
"More-ish, as in ... you want more than is good for you," she explained, surprised that it was a concept unusual for him. Or perhaps it was the word itself.
"Oh, I see," he replied, gobbling up the last of the hot dog. "May I have more-ish then?" he asked, smirking again. The way she'd used the word was clearly unfamiliar to him, but then English wasn't his first language, as evidenced by the merest hint of an undefinable accent in the way he spoke.
She laughed, offering him the last bite of her own hot dog, despite her already stated love of the snack. "You are surprisingly adorable at times, you know?"
He grinned as he leaned in to take the last bite of her hot dog. "I assume that is a good thing," he said, once he was finished chewing and swallowing. "I see what you mean. They are rather addictive, aren't they?" he asked. Just like she was.