Don't get her wrong, she really really loved the chance to take an all expenses paid vacation to Asgard and all, it's just that Darcy wasn't exactly enjoying her stay as much as she had hoped. It had been pretty frickin awesome the first few days, she had to admit, with Jane excitedly showing her around the palace grounds and what not, and then there were the wedding preparations that had to be finalized (the reason for the trip in the first place) and as maid of honour, Darcy had some real responsibility there. It's just that after a few days of wedding planning and watching the endless lovefest that was Jane and Thor, Darcy had gotten a little tired of it all (it's not like her love life was going great and she didn't need to be reminded of her eternal single-ness at every waking hour, thank you very much). And it's not like Darcy can't entertain herself, she just preferred to entertain herself whilst walking aimlessly through the (very interesting and mysterious) endless hallways (which may or may not be off limits) of the Asgardian castle. Hey, rules are made to be broken, right? It's Darcy we're talking about here.

Which is why no one should have been surprised when she pushed (read: fell awkwardly) her way through the large, ornate doors that lead to the Asgardian dungeons (accidentally, of course). Keeping the doors open slightly, once inside, just wide enough to be able to see if that palace guard had lost her. She had no idea where she was, or that she wasn't alone, at that.

"Hello." A voice, so definitely not alone, then. It was male, smooth, tinted with condescension and arrogance. She turned around slowly, prepping herself for the worst (she was in some forbidden room, after all, and could they deport you from a different world? Shit, Jane would be pissed if she missed the wedding). Spinning on her heel, she saw the owner of the voice sitting calmly in his chair, holding a novel, looking at her almost curiously. Oh, did she mention that said man (god?) was also behind a glass wall in what was most definitely a prison cell and was none other than Loki, attempted (possibly reformed) earth enslaver? When she didn't say anything immediately, he simply returned his gaze to the book in hand, flipped a page.

There was a large part of her conscious telling her to escape right then and there, grab those door handles and make a run for it. But then there was the bigger part, the truly Darcy part of her reasoning, that was pulling her towards that cell by shear curiosity alone. I mean, this was Loki here, God of Mischief, how many times did one get the chance to chat up a god? He was in a cell, after all, and wasn't he supposed to be reformed and what not? Surly they couldn't keep a man so dangerous just sitting in the palace.

So, she took two steps towards the cell and said (meekly) "Hey", doing her best interpretation of someone who is not slightly fearing for their lives.

He looked up slowly, surprise in his expression, but only momentarily. When he composed himself and met her eyes, she was looking straight at a face so obviously full of arrogance and condescension, that she couldn't help but laugh. It was only a small giggle, but Loki suddenly looked completely shocked all the same. Darcy thought herself pretty good at reading people. Here he was, the man behind the cell walls, looking at her like he was the superior.

"I'm sorry, sorry, it's just-" Darcy interjected, before another round of giggles hit. Darcy was one of those people who laughed at the most inappropriate times. And the worse the timing was, the funnier the situation seemed, and the harder the laughter got. When she finally got her bearings and looked up, Loki was staring at her, mouth slightly open, like he was on the verge of saying something but just couldn't get the words out.

Feeling less afraid for her life and more like she had thoroughly insulted this man with her laughter, she thought she had better leave before she created too much of a mess. Just as she had turned to walk out through those huge doors, he spoke up again,

"Wait," it was soft, she had barely heard it, and when she turned to look at him again, he looked surprised that he had even uttered the word himself. Suddenly, Darcy found her feet moving towards this truly enticing man, until she stood right in front of the glass prison walls. She sat down cross legged in front of him, and waited patiently for him to do the same. He stared at her, obviously feeling above all of this. She could just hear it now, me, prince of Asgard, sitting on the floor? Anyways, he eventually gave in sat down, his eyes slightly higher than hers, running a hand through his long hair. That was hot. Wait, what? No. No way. Mass murderer here. He tilted his head slightly, waiting for her to do something. Yep, definitely hot.

"Darcy Lewis" she said, introducing herself. He opened his mouth to speak again, presumably to introduce himself as well, but she cut him off. "No need, I know who you are." His expression shifted slightly at that, and he looked almost uncomfortable.

"Darcy," he repeated. Wow. Her name sounded good in that accent. She liked the way it rolled doff his tongue. "No doubt the company of Thor's betrothed then?" Darcy nodded.

"I didn't mean to barge in on you, I was just wandering the castle and all," She said, "though I doubt I was really interrupting anything too important." She cast her eyes to the enclosing prison walls. He smirked. "This is one pretty nice cell, by the way" She glanced at the furnishings, all green and fancy looking, and to his pile of books.

"And what makes you the expert?" he stated, clearly not agreeing with her statement. She enjoyed the fact that she had irked him like that.

"Well, I'm a political science major and all," Darcy replied, feeling less intimidated.

He asked her what a political science major was, and she indulged him. He seemed genuinely interested in their conversation. It led to her telling him about working as Jane's intern, tasing Thor (there was laughter, quite genuine she thought, at that). Then he spoke about his brother, and their 'sparing' as children. The stories were actually funny and Darcy was laughing at all of them. They shared the conversation, keeping it light, with Darcy occasionally throwing in the complaint about wedding planning or Jane's worrying. Loki made jokes at his brother's expense in return.

Darcy had lost track of time long ago. She was happy, finally, for someone who could understand her and keep up with her witty banter all the same. The conversation never lead down the path of his world destruction, or his imprisonment for that matter, and nor was Darcy willing to go there just yet. For now, she was content to just have someone to talk honestly with. And she was pretty sure that Loki was actually listening. It had been over two hours when suddenly the large doors swung open.

In walked Thor, by himself, staring blankly at the scene of Loki and Darcy, both crossed legged on the floor, in front of him.