Loki strode along the corridor to the gallery of the foyer of Königstrasse 22, hearing the distant strains of Schubert's string quartet. He looked the figure of propriety and belonging in his suit, coat and tie, with a silk scarf draped around his neck. At the end of the corridor, observing the crowd from the safety of the back wall was a woman. She had her back to him but he could tell from the way she stood that she was not merely watching the crowd with the interest of a fellow party goer. She was observing, either as private security or Police. She heard his footsteps behind her, and turned with a smooth smile on her face. At this stage, he guessed, he could just be a guest who had wandered away from the party.

"Guten abend" she said, her accent good but not flawless.

"Good Evening" he replied, sending a tendril of magic out to calm her.

"You're English," she said in surprised recognition, revealing her own country of origin.

"Well, near enough" he replied, giving her his most charming smile. Time was passing, and he needed her out of his way.

She looked away from him for one moment, and he seized his chance, quickly pulling her into the relative darkness of the corridor, wrapping one arm around her arms and waist and putting his hand over her mouth. She struggled uselessly for a moment, trying first to stamp on his insteps then to knee him in the groin, then attempting to free her hands. "Stop that" he commanded, working some magic into the tone of his voice. She did not stop, but continued to struggle, attempting to bite the hand clamped over her mouth. Clearly she had a strong will. Any other time he would have admired that in a pathetic Midgardian, but now it was wasting his time.

"Stop that or I will break your neck" he whispered in her ear, and she ceased her struggles.

Pathetic he thought, how easily these mortals give up.

Suddenly she bit his hand and brought her elbow crashing back into his solar plexus. Winded he let her go and she dived away from him, pulling up the skirt of her elegant evening dress.

A gun strapped to her thigh he thought, how delightful.

Before she even had a chance to draw the gun he brought his fist crashing into the side of her head. Crude yet effective.

Grabbing her as she sagged downward he once again clamped a hand down over her mouth and pressed his body to hers, just in case she was planning to make another bid for freedom. He then reached down to remove the gun – he wasn't planning to leave her able to use it, but it was best to take precautions. As he felt for the gun between her thighs he noticed that her pupils had dilated.

How interesting.

Of course it could just be the excitement of the fight, but one never knew… Testing his theory, he pressed himself even closer, and as he removed the gun from its holster he moved it up to the juncture of her legs before sliding it out from under her skirt. As he pressed between her legs he felt her gasp of breath hot against his hand.

Loki loved to exert any sort of control over another.

If only I had more time,

But maybe there would be another opportunity. Right now he had business to attend to.

"My apologies, my dear" he whispered into her ear, "I am afraid I must leave you."

He tucked her gun into his coat pocket, noting with interest that it was S.H.E.I.L.D. standard issue, then pressed his fingers to her carotid artery until her eyes rolled up into her head and she slid down the wall, unconscious.

Loki strolled nonchalantly out from the corridor, magically summoning his staff into his hand.

Showtime.