Loki had met many people who had seemed to know who he was. Often they had been angry, or afraid, or nervous. In those cases Loki had found himself unamused, unwilling to dissemble. People could be delightful as games to play, and Loki, in his less moody moments, found them to be just the diversion.

These days, however, moody was his game - yet when he found himself approached he let a little smile curl his lips. This man greeting him, so familiarly, was not like anyone else he had met in the hotel just yet. For the first time in a long time, Loki felt compelled to play along. Why not? This was something he was truly curious about. Someone who mistook him, not as a threat or a disappointment, but for a compatriot. And Loki, so fresh in this body, was wondering just who, exactly, he was supposed to be. Was there a Loki as a woman out there, or was this something else? He let a look of amusement flit across his face. Loki would not be a god of lies and mischief if, for a moment, he could not pretend to be someone else, even if it was a bit of a gamble.

"How many apples?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, wondering what else this small, slip of a man might reveal to him.