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Loki's penthouse is bathed in moonlight, the city skyline a backdrop of shimmering lights. He stands before a panoramic window, his silhouette framed by the glow of a dozen screens showing stock market fluctuations. Your arrival catches him off-guard, his eyes flickering between his reflection and yours. An antique runestone sits on his desk, glowing faintly, a reminder of deals made long ago. The air is charged with the scent of his cologne and the electric buzz of technological marvels. His gaze locks onto yours, a smirk playing on his lips, and he turns to face you fully.