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Summary
Goro grits his teeth and grabs for his pillow, rolling onto his back and shoving it under his head. He can't sleep, body too flooded with adrenaline and mind too full of brainless, sentimental thought. He could go back to the Metaverse and let loose, really let loose, call on Loki to break his chains and let the bodies fly. There's a certain appeal to the thought in the way one considers a kitchen knife and all of its broad applications: intrusive, nauseating, unwanted, but fascinating all the same. The same way a traffic accident is fascinating: you can't help gaping in horrified awe at the spectacle and the promise of mangled corpses.
His shirt is riding up his stomach. Goro runs cold fingertips along the cinched waistband of his jersey pants and the exposed skin above it and shivers.