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Summary
Her face didn’t seem younger, not noticeably, but her eyes were. They were rawer, less guarded, and still as intelligent and lively as he remembered them.
"Who are you?"
She was indeed Sylvie but she wasn’t his Sylvie, not yet. Loki found himself considering the possibility she was just another Variant, but he discarded that option almost immediately. Maybe the timeline was a mess right now, but he severely doubted there could be many female Loki Variants out there, running from one apocalypse to the next. The obvious conclusion at this point was that she was, indeed, the right Variant, just at an awfully wrong time, a time in which she didn’t even know who he was.
What were the implications? Was he going to change their future by revealing his identity to her? With the universe in shambles, did that really matter? Just in case, he tried a softer approach for now.
“A friend,” Loki had to refrain himself from winching for how soft and broken his voice sounded as he spoke to her. They were more than friends, much more than that, but something told him this Sylvie wasn’t exactly ready to hear that.