Chapter Text
“So anyway, I am done with my family,” Loki said.
Verity made a noncommittal noise. Loki seemed to think that was true, but, well. “Maybe you should shake things up, try something completely new. Unrelated to Asgardia and all that cosmic super-stuff.” Her phone buzzed against her ear; someone else calling. She ignored it.
“Maybe I’ll run for president,” Loki said.
She didn’t sense a lie, even a playful one. Verity frowned. Her phone buzzed again, insistent. “Uh-- Hang on.”
It was her mother. Verity sent the call to voicemail.
Loki was talking again before she had the phone against her ear. “--other thing is, I kissed this girl, and I’m not sure if I actually like her or if it was just because I was attracted to a spell that was hidden in her soul.”
“Oh my god,” Verity said.
“Ye-es?”
Verity smiled in spite of herself. “That’s such a stupid joke. Anyway, I thought you and Amorphous…”
“Amora,” Loki said. “And no. I don’t think so, anyway. Actually, we never talked about it, but she’s evil again, or at least evil-ish, and I just don’t need that in my life right now.”
“No, you really don’t. But maybe you should take a break from-- Geez.” The phone was buzzing again. “My mom keeps trying to call me. I better find out if she’s okay.”
“I’ll text you,” Loki said, and hung up.
Verity hit the green button on her screen. “Mom. What’s up?”
“The police just took Ron away!” Her mother was breathless, panicky. “Verity! They’re saying he killed someone!”
“It doesn’t look good,” Ms Sanchez told them. “You really need a criminal defence lawyer.”
True. Verity made a note on her phone.
“But you’re our lawyer,” Verity’s mom said blankly.
“Eloise, I do family wills and check real estate contracts. I’m bar-certified, and I can show up for the hearing, but you need someone who can give Ron a real chance of beating this.”
This was first degree murder.
Tony Adams had been seventeen years old, popular, and a regular on Ron’s school bus driving route. He’d disappeared on Tuesday night. Then he’d re-appeared on Thursday afternoon, when the police followed an anonymous tip and dug through the fresh dirt in a planter box on Ron’s rooftop garden. The cause of death had been a blow to his head that matched a shovel found in Ron’s shed.
An entire busful of witnesses had seen Ron yell at Tony for goofing off on numerous occasions. The most recent altercation had been Tuesday morning.
Every time Verity visited, Ron said it was good to see her. It was always a lie, but a kindly-meant one. He made her mother happy. On the other hand, she didn’t think he was incapable of murder, even premeditated murder; she didn’t think anyone was incapable of murder, including herself.
On the other other hand, her mother was crying again.
Verity leaned forward. “Do you think he did it, Maria?”
Ms Sanchez’s eyes shifted. She didn’t know know about Verity’s talent, but she’d been their family lawyer for a long time. Word got around. “The police have a lot of evidence,” she said. “They can make a very strong case.”
True.
Taking your phone to the bathroom was objectively kind of disgusting, but Verity couldn’t bear another minute of her mother swerving from despair to desperate optimism, and “I need to pee” was an unanswerable excuse to get away for a while. She leaned against the bathroom door, breathed deeply for a few seconds, and read the messages from Loki.
The timestamp was hours before, so Verity was pretty sure some poor, confused girl was about to get a bouquet from the God of Stories.
Now there was a horrifying thought.
Verity squinted at the phone. It pinged again.
A Norse god of mischief and stories was standing in her kitchen, holding a bottle and wearing a light blue apron that said “You call it cooking; I call it magic.”
Verity kicked off her shoes, walked past him, and face-planted onto the couch.
“I hate today,” she said, her voice muffled by the cushions.
Loki perched on the edge of the couch and patted her ankle. “There, there.”
Verity rolled over and looked up at him. “Do I smell pie?”
“Yes. Do you want to break Ron out now, or wait until after dessert?”
Verity sighed and got herself vaguely upright. “We can’t break him out, Loki.”
“I suppose you probably-- oh. You mean morally.”
“First of all, I don’t yet know if he did it.”
“Well, if that’s a factor you’re concerned about, I’m sure you can clear it up,” Loki said reasonably. “Just ask.”
As if she hadn’t planned on that since the second her mother had called. Verity rolled her eyes at him. “And secondly, if he didn’t kill that poor kid, you can’t just turn the prison walls to ice cream or whatever, because Ron is a normal person, and he won’t have the slightest idea of how to survive life on the run.”
“Jail,” Loki said primly.
“What?”
“I’d be turning the jail walls to ice cream. Prison is where he’ll go after he’s convicted.”
“Loki--”
“Accuracy is important, Verity! Words have power!”
“Fine! Please don’t break my stepfather out of jail.”
Loki looked nobly into the distance. “I won’t. For you.”
True. She exhaled.
Loki bounced to his feet. “All right! Strategy session. He says he didn’t do it, and you believe him, and then you… testify in Midgard court? You’re a registered power, aren’t you? They know you can tell if he’s lying.”
“I’m a human lie detector, not a truth machine. I can lie whenever I want.” Not that she did it often. Lies coming out of her own mouth weren’t any more pleasant than lies from someone else. “A prosecutor could discredit me without breaking a sweat.”
“Ah.” Loki considered. “I could testify to your good character?”
Verity threw a cushion at him.
“What? I’m good now!”
“Good-ish,” Verity said. “At best.”
Loki sat back down, chewed his thumbnail, transformed a pink vase she didn’t really like into her favourite shade of teal, and straightened his hair, all in a clear effort to avoid eye contact. “I don’t know how to fix this problem if you keep turning down all my excellent ideas for helping,” he told her living room floor. “Was this rug always so hideous?”
“My rug is fine,” Verity said. “And you don’t need to fix the problem.” Her throat tightened. “You are helping. You’re here.”
“Hm,” Loki said, and replaced the rug with a fur Verity was pretty sure didn’t exist on any Earth creature.
Verity nudged his shoulder with her foot. “And you brought wine.”
“I did,” Loki said, his tone brightening. “It’s from space.”
Later, when Verity was very drunk on the space wine, Loki tipped her into bed and tucked the covers up under her chin. “I will fix it, though,” he said, and might or might not have kissed her forehead.
Verity couldn’t swear to the kiss being real, but she remembered what he’d said, and woke with the familiar mixture of affection and dread that only Loki could inspire.
And also a vague taste like strawberries in the back of her mouth, instead of the dry mouth and crashing headache she’d been expecting. They had demolished that bottle of space wine.
Her phone had a handful of notifications, mostly from Loki. She read and responded to the ones from her mom, first, with a mix of logistics and comfort, then swiped over to the rest.
Ron, of course, did know know about Verity. He laughed at his own stupid jokes, and was rude and entitled in the way lots of middle-aged white guys were, and liked completely awful “reality” TV, but one thing that Verity had counted in Ron’s favor from early on was that he took in the news about her power calmly, asked a couple of questions, and then just went on treating her the same way he would have otherwise. It was kind of nice to be around someone who didn’t even think about the fact that she could tell if he was lying enough to get embarrassed when he fibbed in front of her.
Ron was brought into his hearing between two pri-- jail guards. He looked small and shrunken, but his whole face lit up when he saw Verity, and she felt relief wash through her until it suffused her entire body.
There was no reason for him to be so pleased, unless he was innocent.
Ron’s attorney entered a “not guilty” plea on his behalf, and the judge, as Ms Sanchez had predicted, looked at the prosecution’s evidence and decided there was enough probable cause for a trial.
Afterwards, they got a brief meeting, while Ms Sanchez looked out the window and pretended not to listen.
“I didn’t do it,” Ron said immediately. “I’m innocent.”
“I know,” Verity said. Her mom squeezed her hand so hard she felt the tingle of cut-off circulation in her fingertips. “I know, Ron. I know you’re telling the truth.”
“Thank God,” he said. He sank back into his chair, scrubbing his cuffed hands over his face. “Now what?”
“Now we get you a real criminal defense lawyer, and I have a meeting with a private investigator to look into the evidence.”
“But he’s innocent,” Verity’s mom said. “The police will work that out.”
“Eloise--” Ron began, at the same time Verity said “Mom…”
“But you are, honey!”
Verity really didn’t know how to explain to her mother that bad things happened to good people. Or even just mostly okay people who always ate the last slice of pie at Thanksgiving.
“It’s a frame job,” she said. “The evidence is too obvious for it to be anything else.”
“Figures that Adams kid is still making trouble,” Ron muttered, but had the grace to look abashed when Verity glared at him. “I don’t mean-- I didn’t like the kid, that’s no secret. He was part of that gang of snots who think they don’t have to follow any rules. I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who egged the house last spring. But I don’t know why anyone would kill him, then set me up.”
“Maybe because they knew you didn’t like him,” Verity guessed. “What about the shovel they’re saying is the murder weapon? There were two in the shed.”
“I only bought one shovel,” Ron said. “Why would I need two? But that’s okay; my fingerprints won’t be on it.”
“You wear gardening gloves, right? There probably aren’t any fingerprints on any of your tools.”
“Oh.” Ron slumped a little more. “Still. Two shovels. That’s weird, right? It shows the one that killed Tony was planted.”
“And you don’t have an alibi.”
“Your mother was at her Stitch and Bitch night,” Ron said. “I was watching Queer Eye.”
True, and a distinct improvement in Ron’s reality TV choices, but not very helpful. Maybe the PI would have some ideas.
“You’re good at this, honey,” Verity’s mom told her. “Maybe you could go to law school? Janine Appleby’s daughter just got into Stanford.”
“So,” Jessica Jones said, tapping her pen against her desk. “You and Loki.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? There is no me-and-Loki. We’re just friends.”
Jones’ mouth quirked. “You realise that isn’t any less weird, right?”
Verity sighed. “Yes.”
“All right. I’ve called a lawyer I know, and if he’s satisfied with your story he’ll take the legal side of the case. I’ll take the investigation side.”
“Are you doing this because you think Loki might be up to something and this way you can keep an eye on him?”
“Yes,” Jones said. “On the off-chance that he’s not, I also don’t want an innocent man to go to jail.”
Both things were true. “Prison,” Verity muttered, and wriggled when Jones arched an eyebrow at her. “Um, so, what’s this going to cost?”
“That’s been dealt with. Although I want a credit card on file just in case it all turns into leaves after midnight.”
“That’s fair,” Verity said, and reached for her wallet.
Jones was still tapping her pen. “So what’s your deal?” she asked. “You’ve got some kind of power, right? You’ve got the look.”
Verity had been eyeing the beat-up Alias Investigations office and wondering if Loki had gotten the wrong Jessica Jones, but maybe she was good at her job after all. “I can tell if people are lying.”
“No shit? Like, you can detect changes in their heartbeat, that kind of thing?”
“No. I just always know, even if they’re really good liars. I mean, I can tell if Loki’s lying.”
“That’s sort of like saying you can tell if there’s air.”
Verity tossed her credit card across the desk. “I hear that more than one person out there describes you as a trainwreck, so, I dunno. Maybe you know some things about people having more than one side to them and stuff.”
Jones smirked. “I have definitely been a trainwreck more than once.”
True. Actually, Jones hadn’t lied once, which was kind of refreshing. “And Loki lies,” Verity said. “But not always, and that’s not the only thing he does. He hired a private investigator to help his friend’s stepfather, for example.”
“Can’t argue with that. Especially since it’s paying my rent this month.” Jones finally put the pen down. “Okay. I have some background questions that will give me somewhere to start on all this, and then I want names and contact info for everyone you can think of that’s connected to your stepfather. And then in a few days we’ll meet with my lawyer friend.”
Jessica’s lawyer friend was Daredevil.
“You’re Daredevil!” Verity said.
Matt Murdock’s face didn’t change. “It was established in a court of law that representations of my being the alleged Devil of Hell’s Kitchen are inaccurate and potentially actionable.”
“Yeah,” Verity said. “But you are. You said you weren’t on live TV and I was watching. Stone-cold lie.”
Jessica tipped back in her chair and grinned at the ceiling.
“Did your stepfather kill Tony Adams?” Murdock asked patiently.
“He said he didn’t, and he thinks it’s true.”
Jessica frowned at her. Verity shrugged. “What? I’ve seen too much weird shit to discount brainwashing or memory spells.”
“Well, it’s enough to start with,” Murdock said, clicking his recorder off. “I’ve got an appointment with him tomorrow. Jess, you’ve got what you need?”
“Actually,” Jessica said, giving Verity a speculative look, “I was going to ask Verity if she wanted to come with me for some questioning.”
“It won’t be admissible,” Murdock warned.
“Most of what I do isn’t.”
“Don’t tell me these things, Jess.”
“Pot, kettle, Matt,” Jessica said, shrugging into her jacket. “Coming, Verity?”
“Sure,” Verity said. As they left Murdock and Nelson, she gave in to the urge. “So. You and Matt.”
Jessica nearly walked into a fire hydrant. “No! We’re just-- oh. Haha.” She rolled her eyes half-heartedly. “I guess I deserved that. Here, this is my junkheap.”
Verity got in. It took three tries to get the seat belt buckle to click. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to go talk to some of Tony’s friends. They’re having a party. Well, they say it’s a memorial, but if they’re not getting wasted I will eat this car.”
“We can just show up?”
“Yeah. One of them thinks I’m a, quote, MILF.”
“Ew.”
“Yep. These kids are the ones I hated most in high school. Heading to good schools, guaranteed jobs in Daddy’s firm, rich and bored and spoiled. Fuck knows why they were even taking the bus. I’d expect them all to get Sweet Sixteen cars.”
“Ron said they’d done it since they were little kids. It was a tradition, or something.” Ron driving the bus route was another tradition. He didn’t need to do it; her mother made easily double his income. But he said he liked keeping busy.
Jessica snorted. “Tradition. The WASP magic word.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I got some shady vibes from my initial questions, but it could be nothing to do with Ron. I’ll do the talking. If they lie about anything, don’t challenge them; just signal me. Touch your nose or flick your hair back or something.” Her phone buzzed. “Can you push the button on that?”
Verity did.
“Hey, babe,” Jessica said. “I’m driving.”
“Okay, but have you got a second?” The voice on the other end was deep, probably male, and definitely harassed. “Dani says you promised she could wear the light-up shoes to Kendra H’s birthday.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Kendra Q took the shoes.”
Jessica swore. “What did Mrs Q say?”
Verity put Jessica’s phone in the cup holder, tuned out the conversation, and pulled out her own phone.
The kids were indeed getting wasted. There was something off about it, Verity thought. Beer keg, loud music… But the energy wasn’t like a party or a wake.
Jessica caught her eye. “See? Shady. Okay, brace yourself for some really amateur moves.”
“Hey!” one of the guys called out, a tall teenager with dark hair carefully sculpted to look like he’d just slept on it. “The MILF! And she brought a friend.” He leered at Verity. “You the babysitter, honey?”
Honey? Jessica elbowed her, and Verity tried to wipe what was no doubt a look of disgust off her face with a pleasant smile. She ducked her head and did a timid little wave. “Hi.”
“This is Josh,” Jessica said, exaggerating the huskiness of her voice in a way that, yeah, definitely played up the trainwreck angle. She pointed out some of the other kids. “Rob, Cameron, Aiden. That’s Tate over there.”
“Vee,” Verity said, giving a nickname from high school that hadn’t stuck. She didn’t really want these guys calling her by her real name for some reason, like if she was going to be less than truthful about even one thing, she had to go all in. She smiled at Josh. “Who’re your other friends?”
They spent the next half hour wandering around the party, having vapid conversations about the dearly departed and also which colleges were the best party schools, and whether or not it was gross to hook up in the backseat of a car. The last question was posed by Aiden, who was pretty clearly angling for Verity to test his theories with him.
“I kind of have a boyfriend,” Verity said, and then Jessica saved her from having to make up a dashing Canadian by claiming that they had to leave so Verity could get to her job on time.
“Wow,” Jessica said, when they were back in the car. “You were scratching your face so much they probably thought you were tweaking.”
“People lie kind of a lot,” Verity said. “Though these guys were exceptionally full of it.”
Jessica made a thoughtful noise. “I mean, yeah. Teenage guys. But I can’t think of any good reason why half of them would be lying about the last time they saw Tony.”
“And that story Tate told about ‘the psycho bus driver guy’ punching him one time just because he was talking on his phone was complete bullshit, front to back.”
“And the one about Ron telling Tony that if he mouthed off one more time he’d get him expelled?”
Verity shrugged. “He threatened to do something about it, but it wasn’t expulsion. I can ask Ron for his version, but I bet it wasn’t a death threat, either. Ron did tell Aiden that he’s a sack of shit, though.”
“Not the most professional language for a bus driver,” Jessica acknowledged. “But not really on the same level as beating someone to death with a shovel.” She gave Verity a sidelong look. “You were pretty good in there.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you interested in picking up some freelance work?”
“Um,” Verity said. A year ago, she would have said no, and maybe laughed in ironic contempt. The problem was, after magic and adventure and watching the end of the universe, screening surveys for people’s little white lies about their age and height was getting kind of tame. The party itself had been gross and boring, but it had felt… good. To help. “Not right now, with Ron and everything.”
Jessica nodded, eyes on the road. “Okay, then. I’ll be in touch.”
“How long will it take?”
“Could be a couple of months, could move very fast. Depends on a lot of stuff. But I’ll keep you updated.”
“Me? Not Ron?”
“Ron is Matt’s client. You’re mine.”
She dropped Verity off outside her apartment building. Verity took a quick shower to wash the shady vibes off, then put on her comfy PJs and listened to an excited voicemail from her mom telling her that Ron’s new lawyer was THE Matt Murdock, you know, He Was on TV.
She texted her mom agreeing that having Murdock on Ron’s side was great, and letting her know that the PI was hard at work, too. Then she shot a message to Loki.
Jessica updated her every couple of days. Everything she said was true, but it wasn’t very specific, and Verity had the feeling she was doing some things that she might not want to discuss over the phone.
Ron’s case went to the Grand Jury, and he was arraigned on indictment. Murdock assured Ron and Verity’s mom that this was completely normal. “I’ve every confidence that we’ll get the case dismissed during motions and hearings,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “I don’t think you’ll go to trial, Mr Proctor.”
Ron and Eloise looked at Verity. She nodded.
Regardless of Murdock’s assurances, the stress was getting to them. She could see the strain in her mother’s eyes, in Ron’s hunching shoulders.
It was getting to her too, and Loki was still away doing cosmic things. Which was why, when a sort-of friend knocked on her door, she agreed to do something stupid.
Two weeks later, Loki appeared in Verity’s living room and face-planted onto her couch. “My dad is an asshole,” he said.
Verity put down the pasta strainer. “True,” she said. “Which one?”
“Ugh.” Loki rolled off the couch onto the fur rug, staring up at the ceiling. There was a blue-black bruise all along the left side of his face. His hands were covered in little cuts. “Odin. He’s just… my mother knows she’s awful. She does it for the good of Asgardia or whatever the Hel justification works for her, but she knows. He’s just so oblivious.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Do you want spaghetti?”
“No. Yes. What sauce is it?”
“Puttanesca, but I haven’t added the olives yet.”
“All right,” Loki said, as if he were granting her a favour. He pulled himself upright, moving as if every joint needed oiling. Verity didn’t say anything. If he didn’t draw attention to injuries, he didn’t want anyone else to.
Of course, when he did draw attention to injuries, he expected everyone to lavish him with sympathy. She’d never seen anyone make such a fuss over a split nail.
“Anyway, I’m really done with my family this time,” he said. “Except for Laussa, who I’ll probably be done with as soon as she starts talking. She loved her Hatchimal, by the way.”
“So she does exist.”
“Yep. And she’s probably only a little bit possessed by a fire demon. What’s new on Netflix?”
Verity passed him an olive-free plate of spaghetti. “I haven’t seen the second season of Nailed It.”
“Excellent! I hope they attempt a cake Versailles.”
They were halfway through dinner and various terrible attempts at a teapot cake when Verity’s phone rang.
“Hey,” Jessica said. She sounded out of breath. There were sirens in the background.
“Hey! Are you okay?”
“I got shot at a little bit, but I’m fine. It was the kids.”
Verity was still processing the “shot at”, and didn’t get the implication right away. “Wait. The kids killed Tony?”
“Not exactly. Josh and Tate are yelling at each other in front of the police, because no one ever taught them how to act right and shut up once they’ve been Miranda’d, but it seems that Tony stole something or slept with someone who was sleeping with one of them or maybe both. There was a fight, and Tony got pushed and fell funny onto the shovel. They all freaked out, then Aiden remembered that Ron had a garden and had the bright idea to blame the mean old bus driver.”
“Huh. I wouldn’t have picked Aiden as the smart one.”
“Real smart,” Jessica said grimly. “They were looking at involuntary manslaughter; maybe accidental death. Horrible tragedy, dead white kid, mourning white friends admitting their culpability and desperately seeking forgiveness - that kind of stuff plays well in court. Framing an innocent man does not. Also, Tate tried to shoot me, and I am definitely pressing charges. Anyway, Matt’s doing his thing at the DA’s office, and Ron should be out in a couple of hours.”
Verity let out a breath. Loki was watching her intently. She gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks, Jessica.”
“No problem. Tell your just-friend I’ll be sending the final bill to your address.”
“Will do.” She mouthed ‘thank you’ at Loki, who waved it away.
“And when you have a chance, let me know about that other thing we talked about.”
“Oh,” Verity said. “Yes. I will. Thank you again. Good night.”
She pressed the red button and stared at Loki.
“What other thing?” he asked, eyes bright.
“Tell you later. I--” she leaned forward over her knees, heedless of the plate in her lap, and breathed. “It’s done. He’s getting out.” She straightened. “I’m sorry, can we hang out another time? I need to go be with my mom.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry about your asshole dad.”
“Don’t give it another thought,” Loki said airily, and transported them to Aunt Marilyn’s suburban backyard.
“You’re a good friend,” Verity said. She hugged him, which wasn’t a thing they did that often. He froze, and then patted her hair lightly.
“You’re welcome. You know, I think you’re right. I need to stop wasting my time on cosmic nonsense and focus my attentions on Midgard.”
Verity nodded and headed for the house. Then she whirled on her heel. “Hey, what atten--”
He was gone.
Mom had tried to get Verity on board for a family game night plenty of times in the past, but Verity had always managed to wriggle free of the obligation. Having a well-established reputation of misanthropy from early childhood was pretty handy sometimes. But Ron and Eloise had been through kind of a lot, and Verity was even more relieved than she had expected to be that her stepdad was walking free, so she said yes, sure, and showed up with a bottle of wine and a brand-new, unopened Boggle set. The latter had been Lorelei’s suggestion, because, so she claimed, only the most pathetic, honorless villains in the multiverse would even think about cheating at Boggle. So there shouldn’t be any lying involved.
Ron answered the door. “Verity!” he said. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”
He meant it.
And the game night was fun, and her mom had made a pretty excellent cheesecake, and Verity was still home early enough to put the finishing touches on her application to the criminal justice program at CUNY. Because… why not?
Her phone pinged just as she was clicking the “submit” button.
It took a minute to remember how to get an actual television signal on the TV she used almost exclusively for streaming, and Verity was pretty sure she was going to miss whatever Jessica wanted her to see. But no, this was apparently the biggest story out there at the moment: a Hydra attack at a campaign event. That Loki had foiled.
Some truth there, but mostly lies. Verity sighed. What was he up to?
Then Loki was speaking, surrounded by a gaggle of reporters shouting questions at him. “America, if I were your president, I’d have the guts to lie right to your face,” he said, grinning wildly into the camera. “And you’d love it.”
Verity sighed again. True.
THREE MONTHS LATER:
“Elections are boring,” Loki said.
Verity put the phone on speaker and pulled a soda out of the fridge. After a long day shadowing a case with Jessica, she kind of wanted something harder, but long days with Jessica also reminded her that it was not healthy to use alcohol as anaesthetic. “You were definitely not born in Maryland,” she said. “Congratulations on your landslide defeat. What’s next?”
“I could run for ruler of Latveria.”
Verity snorted. “Pretty sure that’s not a democracy.”
“Well, in that case, I think I’d better be the adorable animal sidekick to the brilliant detective hunting out the truth behind a series of mysterious murders on Vanaheim.”
“What?” Verity said, because he meant it. “Now, wait a minute, I thought you were avoiding cosmic--”
Gentle chimes sounded behind her. Verity turned, full of directionless apprehension, and stared. “What. How?”
Loki arched his neck and pranced a little on his dainty hooves. “You know this one, Verity. I can be anything as long as I’m myself.”
“A unicorn, though? I thought there was an implication of, I don’t know, purity…”
Loki shook his mane. It sparkled. “Do you want to argue about this or do you want to go save some lives? Because I can go either way, really, but I thought you would have a distinct preference.”
Verity nodded. “Right. Yes.” She stepped toward him and touched his shoulder. His hide was smooth and soft, hot under her hand. A muscle under his skin twitched. “What should I, uh.”
“Pull my hair and get a leg over, already,” Loki said.
“This was already super wrong and now it’s worse,” Verity muttered. Then she wrapped a chunk of mane around her fist and hauled herself aboard. “Ugh. Can you smell less like a horse?”
“Nope!” Loki said.
Sadly, it was true.