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[Loki returns home by the simple expedient of teleporting. Not quite steady on this feet, he runs into the wall of the front room, and then just leans there, eyes closed, breathing far faster than he should.
He managed the facade for the few minutes it took to get away from Barton and Adele, but something still feels wrong, as if there is a disconnect between mind and body that's interfering with his very ability to think. Something visceral - terror? - claws at his throat, tries to shut it off. He hugs his arms tight to his body, unconsciously rubbing his hands together as if to warm them, and resists the urge to pace.
Calm. He needs to be calm.
Calm refuses to come.]
He managed the facade for the few minutes it took to get away from Barton and Adele, but something still feels wrong, as if there is a disconnect between mind and body that's interfering with his very ability to think. Something visceral - terror? - claws at his throat, tries to shut it off. He hugs his arms tight to his body, unconsciously rubbing his hands together as if to warm them, and resists the urge to pace.
Calm. He needs to be calm.
Calm refuses to come.]
[He'll probably hear Gregor before he sees him as the young Emperor thuds quickly down the stairs. The sound of Loki hitting the wall seemed like something to investigate. When he sees Loki leaning against the wall, rubbing his arms, Gregor slows down his approach.]
Loki?
Loki?
[Loki straightens up, badly approximates a normal smile. But he can't get his breathing to slow, his lips and cheeks are starting to feel numb and he knows that isn't a good thing at all.]
Oh, Gregor. Sorry. I... missed my room.
Oh, Gregor. Sorry. I... missed my room.
[Loki flinches back. He finally gives in to the nervous urge and starts pacing.]
I would really... much rather stand.
I would really... much rather stand.
Stop? It never stops.
[But Loki does pause in his shaking, scrubbing his shaking hands together.]
I am breathing.
[But Loki does pause in his shaking, scrubbing his shaking hands together.]
I am breathing.
[Loki shakes his head, shakily scrubbing at his face with his hands. Though he does try to comply, because it sounds like as good advice as any.]
I think... I think there is something... something wrong with me.
I think... I think there is something... something wrong with me.
[With Gregor moving off, Loki starts walking toward the stairs, hesitates, turns away, and effectively starts pacing again. But he does try to breathe. Really, he wishes that he could.]
I think... perhaps I will go to bed. And sleep. Though I can't sleep.
I think... perhaps I will go to bed. And sleep. Though I can't sleep.
I just... want to sleep.
I can't. I can't. I can't. [He clutches at his hair.]
I can't. I can't. I can't. [He clutches at his hair.]
Shhh. [Gregor approaches quietly and passes Loki the water. At least it'll give him something to reach out and take, something to break this stream of panic. Something to clutch besides his hair. Also, the act of drinking will force him to take a quiet moment.]
Don't shush me. [Loki snaps, and then laughs, a faint edge of hysteria to the sound.] Words are all I have.
[He takes the glass, not because he wants it, but because it's an automatic reaction at this point. His hands shake so much that the water spills, but he doesn't notice. He stares down at it as if he's not entirely certain what to do with it.]
I... I don't feel good, Gregor. I... I... need to lay down.
[He takes the glass, not because he wants it, but because it's an automatic reaction at this point. His hands shake so much that the water spills, but he doesn't notice. He stares down at it as if he's not entirely certain what to do with it.]
I... I don't feel good, Gregor. I... I... need to lay down.
[Loki actually does sit gingerly on the couch. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging, still clutching his water glass.]
I can't. Can't.
[He nearly drops the glass, clutches at it, then raises one hand to fumble at his lips.]
I can't. Can't.
[He nearly drops the glass, clutches at it, then raises one hand to fumble at his lips.]
Safety is an illusion. I'm never safe. [But he does try to focus on his breathing anyway, shoulders moving. He doesn't like the way his face feels numb, or his hands, and he wants it to stop.]
[Loki does as he's told, breathing with his mouth shut, shoulders hunched up toward his ears. He rocks back faintly back and forth in his seat, hands white-fingered on the glass of water.
But slowly, he gets his breathing back under control.]
But slowly, he gets his breathing back under control.]
[He doesn't have the energy for a sharp look, but he does manage a narrow-eyed one.]
I think... I'd rather not.
[He rubs his hands slowly together.]
I think... I'd rather not.
[He rubs his hands slowly together.]
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