Matt doesn't see Loki again for almost a month, though he does find a ceramic pot of stew in his refrigerator after returning in the early morning hours from a particularly frustrating evening chasing down a gunman who was very good at quickly hot-wiring cars. A crystal bottle of that refreshingly herby liqueur Loki shared with him sits on the counter after another bout of blood loss. It's real crystal, and beautifully cut. Matt wonders what it looks like; if it's clear or colored. There some things even his super-senses can't tell him, and it's not like he can show it to Foggy and ask for a description. The day after Matt finishes the bottle, it's gone when he gets back from work.

He still hasn't given Loki a definitive answer. He's not sure what his answer will be. He doesn't trust himself to be able to distinguish truth and lies when it comes to the demigod, but his gut tells him that Loki is right about the approaching danger.

Superheroes continue to make news and Matt continues his patrols. He and Foggy eke out enough for rent, groceries, and nights at Josie's bar. It's not half bad. Considering.

Matt smells Loki before he hears him, and that tells Matt something impressive about Loki's stealth. Over the incense and candle wax, the sweat and wood polish, that definitively Loki scent of earth and herb and leather reaches Matt before the sound of steady but soft steps approaches from the front of the church. He can hear Loki turn and imagines him regarding his holy competition on the crucifix. Then Loki resumes his progress to the pew and sits beside Murdock.

"A god in a church?" Matt says quietly, too aware of the way sound carries in this place. "Someone should write this down."

Loki seems more relaxed this time than last, but even now there's a subtle energy around him that makes Matt's ears twitch. He wants to roll his neck and shoulders, stretch his arms, shake away the tightening of his muscles. He turns his head so he would be looking at Loki if his eyes worked.

"Do gods believe in G-d?"

"Some of us are aware of a higher… order to the universe."

Matt smiles. "That's almost a straight answer."

"I have always had an affection for what your people might call the 'scenic route' to the truth," Loki responds.

"That implies you always end up at the truth, in the end. That's not entirely consistent with your reputation."

"Mmm. Rather like an attorney, then, is it not? If I do not advocate my cause, who will? I do not currently have the luxury of a cadre of willing sycophants and apologists."

Matt almost laughs. "The patron saint of lawyers, then?" Loki tenses, but Matt can't help himself. He does have the devil in him, after all. "Sorry. God of lawyers."

"The insolence of humanity might be refreshing, were it not paired with an arrogance to rival Asgard's. An arrogance that is ill-earned." Matt feels the movement of air that denotes a sweep of Loki's arm to gesture at the icons of the Church. "This religion of yours, it preaches humility? It blesses the meek and calls on Man to bow humbly before the One Being which is greater than yourself?"

Matt folds his hands over the top of his cane. "Yes." He sees where this is going, but wants to hear Loki make the argument.

"Hubris," Loki says. "Have you any idea how many sentient species exist? Knowing nothing of the universe, you have decided that you - you - in your squalid, fetid, ignorance, are the reason for all existence, are surpassed only by the Creator itself in excellence."

"You don't sound angry about it," Matt observes. It surprises him a little. He'd thought Loki might have more of a temper. "It's more like… resigned disgust."

Loki huffs a short laugh. "Yes. Apt."

They sit in silence for a while, and Matt examines the being beside him. The heartbeat is fast, even at resting rate. The muscles sliding under skin are slightly… off, as though the fibers are knitted together differently. Loki's body temperature is slightly cooler than most, but it wouldn't be noticeable if Matt weren't looking for it. The bones - old breaks have healed strong, and there are many, many patches on the skeleton. This is a man - in a sense - who has seen battle, been in the thick of it, and survived. He has known pain, that is clear.

There's something that permeates Loki, too. It's as though that energy flows through him from an unknown source and envelopes him. Half-forgotten articles and television shows on multiple dimension theories come to mind, but Matt's never had a scientific bent. He works with words when he's not working with fists.

Matt realizes with a start that the energy is moving, gathering, and coalescing. It reaches towards him and takes shape, like a coiled snake, ready to strike. It bends on itself and now gives the impression of healing hands ready to soothe a wound, before wisping out into delicate tendrils capable of subtle manipulations. It all takes place in the span of about three seconds, then draws back into Loki's space.

Drawing in a breath, Matt re-establishes his awareness of the rest of his surroundings. He chastises himself to not allow Loki's weirdness to distract him. Before he can speak, Loki begins.

"It is a manipulation of energy. That you can detect it is… unusual. And valuable. Potentially." Loki turns his head to Matthew. "I doubt you will ever be capable of more than an extremely rudimentary grasp of control over these forces. You are primitive creatures, after all. But even such a small advantage will be more than -" Loki's heartbeat stutters, though his words only pause minutely, as though simply searching for the correct expression, "HE will expect."

"Who is HE?" Matt asks. For some reason, there's a sour taste in his mouth he can't place, and a dread weighting his limbs.

"HE is old," Loki answers. "Older than you can imagine. And powerful. And mad." Loki seems to shake something off, then. "We can discuss the Enemy later. First, however, there are more practically applicable skills you might learn." He stands, and Matt follows suit. "Your home, then. It is as good a place as any to begin."