Loki was nursing a bruise or three, but they would be gone within the hour. He'd fled his attacker not out of fear for his own life, but because if they kept on, Loki would have killed him. Yes, death wasn't permanent here, but he would rather not have that man's blood on his hands. How absurd was this? He still couldn't fathom his own choice in the matter, but that wasn't his problem right now. His teleportation spell brought him to a comfort zone. One he knew well--or rather, it seemed to drop him smack-dab in the zone of someone of comfort. But as soon as he locked eyes with that someone, he knew something was wrong. Like the Captain, there was something off about the way Billy held himself. Of course there was... Because life just couldn't be easy, could it? He wouldn't fall for it twice.

"And how is our littlest magical prodigy? Not feeling himself, I gather? Pity. I had not the desire to fight you this day..."