Natasha was no longer a savage, nor was she a machine. She had been shown warmth in a way she understood to be honest, had learned to project warmth at others in a way that was equally meant, and still the earnest welcoming and warmth that Loki’s mother radiated was almost a shock to her system. Perhaps it was because Natasha came from a world where no one moved to touch her without express invitation, where blatant displays of affection between herself and even her best of friends were sparse and, at most times, aloof at best. Frigga taking her hand was unexpected, but not off-putting. Natasha found herself squeezing it in greeting, and smiling up into an ethereally beautiful and motherly face.

“I am,” she told Frigga. “I have worked with your son Thor when he’s paid visit to my world, but I’ve gotten to know Loki more while here at the Nexus.” She turned her gaze to Loki then, meeting his eyes and his smile and his offer of a drink with a slight tip of her head. She had just met Frigga, but Natasha was not one for gossip nor was she the sort to tell a mother what a monster her son could be at an otherwise civilized gathering. She would be making no mention of what she knew just yet. “A drink would be perfect, Loki. Thank you.”