"Something like that," Fiona absently answered, uncertain whether she ought to feel comforted or irritated by how completely unworried Loki seemed. In any case, she kept close, one hand against his arm as they moved forward.

The street around them was difficult to make out, but what little she could see was beyond derelict, buildings and sidewalks falling in on themselves in a way that reminded her, distressingly, of pictures they'd shown in school of Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the bomb. Without warning Fiona darted out toward the crumbling remains of a car, returning a moment later with a long piece of metal in hand, perhaps an axle or steering rod, hefted in her hands with the confidence of someone used to wielding a bat with violent intent.