43. Taken

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0600 hours, Nuuk, Greenland.


She wandered through the streets, bright platinum blond hair hidden beneath a thick beanie, duster trailing along behind her. It was easy to blend in with the fish mongers setting up shop and the tired men coming into shore with fish aplenty.

Her gloved hands picked up one from a fisherman's basket, admiring the large fish, it's blank eyes staring back at her in the dark morning. "hvor meget?" she asked, her danish up to scratch after the long years.

" For en fisk, 20. Men for en ung dame som dig, 15." He smiled, crossing his arms while his son loaded more fish from the small dingy into boxes filled with snow. 

She smiled, reaching for her pocket to draw out some coins, and placed them in his bare, lined hand. They made conversation for a while, about the market, about Nuuk, about the people, all while the man talked and talked, until it was time for the fishermen to set up shop. 

She took the fish, sliced up with a practised hand, wrapped in some paper and made her way along the small shops of Nuuk, humming an old tune, admiring the clothes and photography pieces and books in shop windows, her breath coming out in a puff of dragon's breath against the still dark sky.

It was strange, being here. And yet she kept her calm, despite the knowledge that she was being watched, by many eyes. By many, trained eyes, trained by killers. But it was also nice to be here; it reminded her of a light in the darkness, a place where she could go and distract herself. 

But today wasn't the day for distractions. 

Maeve would be at her best behaviour, a light dusting of makeup on, a faint smile plastering her face, a hotel booked out in the heart of the city, her lover waiting for her inside. For breakfast, she bought some eggs, bread, cheese and a jar of jam from some local bakeries and markets, slowly making her way back to the hotel as the sun came up.

He was waiting for her inside, and smiled as she walked in, hooking her duster and beanie up onto the hooks on the back of the door.

The apartment was quite big, fit for people that actually would enjoy the place, not for monsters or killers. Not for people that had weapons stashed under the floorboards, within the walls.

" Apparently, the Greenlandic people have fish for breakfast, so fish we will have" she said, her light British accent rolling off the tongue. 

" Fish? Reminds me too much of Asgard" Loki said, not even bothering to hide his strong, London accent, lounging back on the chair with both arms wrapped behind his head. 

His face had changed, morphed into a handsome and yet cute person. Still with the black hair, but somewhat different, not too different though. They couldn't seem too inconspicuous.

She hissed. " Would you shut-up? There are eyes and ears everywhere."

" Oh, yes dear. I nearly forgot."

She rolled her eyes, catching a glimpse of a shadow lingering on the street below, a sure sign that they were being followed. She had already spotted a security camera in the kitchen, perhaps also equipped with a microphone.

She smiled, heading to the kitchen to cook up the fish. Maeve hesitated, not sure how to handle such a task. Cooking wasn't one of her strong points, in fact, she doubted that she had ever actually cooked before. 

To fry it, bake it or roast it? She wasn't so sure. In the Red Room, boiled meat was all she had seen being cooked. 

Loki came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace, his chin resting on her head. It sometimes annoyed her how tall he was, how he could reach the tallest shelves and look over the tops of crowds, but she could blend in more, fit into smaller spaces. "I'm afraid I don't know how to cook either"

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