Loki

The café was pleasantly quiet, leaving only the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain. Jolene looked up as someone took the empty chair across from her without asking.

"My apologies," the man said smoothly. "Every other table appears occupied, and you struck me as the sort who wouldn't make a scene."

He was tall and impeccably dressed in dark green and black, his black hair brushed neatly back from a pale, sharply featured face. His green eyes watched her with open curiosity, carrying the sort of confidence that suggested he expected the world to accommodate him.

Jolene glanced around before shrugging. "Go ahead."

"How generous." A faint smile touched his lips as he settled into the chair. "It seems good manners have not entirely abandoned this realm."

"This realm?" she asked, amused.

He caught himself for the briefest moment before inclining his head. "An unfortunate habit of speech. I travel rather more than most."

"I'm Jolene."

"Loki."

He offered the name as though it should already mean something. There was no hand extended, only a polite nod and a measured smile.

"So, Jolene," he continued, resting an elbow lightly on the table, "tell me. Were you enjoying the solitude, or have I rescued you from it?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"No?" His smile widened just enough to reveal his delight. "Excellent. First impressions are terribly overrated."