The name was vague-sounding. Loki knew many worlds and many palces, so many dates and names and events and landscapes jumbling up in his head, that the word 'Brooklyn' was a small footnote, a tiny word inscribed at the bottom of a map. 'New York' was easier to place; he had come across it when first sweeping Midgard for his brother, and where is father might have banished him.

But speaking of his brother... "Thor?" he asked, looking up from his work, pen stilling against the page, so light it left a tiny, blurred dot on the paper, and nothing more. "You know my brother?" Then Steve must know Loki, as Natasha had - 'in passing', she had claimed, but he was almost certain now that that was a lie. Was this Steve as good a liar as she was? He hadn't made any outward sign of recognition when Loki had introduced himself, but a lack of response was an easy thing to drum up when the disguise wasn't being prodded.