( None of this is unfolding in the way it usually would. There's part of Loki that wants to object from the deviation against the norm: it's always much easier when he can count on people to reach with violence, when he can lean into his worst self, because it means he he can twist any potential introspection into spite and anger that he blame on everyone else. Dante, though, is oddly persistent, even when their previous encounters would suggest he couldn't give less of a shit about anything, and Loki just rolls his eyes as he explains that this sort of thing is a regular occurrence in his life.

Surprise, surprise. )

... Innocent bystanders are usually less resilient.

( He agrees dryly, aware that their tiff is now drawing the attention of nosey passer-bys. Thank goodness Dante's already healed, and that Loki had the foresight to get rid of the dagger. It'd be a little difficult to explain should anyone choose to stop and intervene. )

Although I hardly think I owe you anything. I warned you to keep out of my way—you're the one who chose to ignore me.

( His finger and thumb pinch the bridge of his nose as a frown wrinkles his brow. Shaking Dante off in the traditional sense obviously isn't going to work, which means he may as well resign himself to his company for a little while longer. )

I need wine, among other things. You can join me if you like, although I can't promise you won't end up with a dagger in your side again.