The silence that follows is heavy.
Not the respectful silence of an arena awaiting applause, but that uncomfortable, almost awkward silence that arises when something too serious has just happened… and been interrupted by a clown.
Vergil stares at Loki… Doesn't blink… Doesn't move.
The tension in his body isn't explosive, it's concentrated, like a blade stuck in the middle of a slingshot.
"You," Vergil says, low, each syllable laden with contempt, "took me away from the only interesting thing that happened in this tournament."
Loki tilts his head to the side, his eyes wide, as if genuinely confused.
"Oh, come on," he replies, flashing a crooked smile. "Interesting? You were basically torturing a goddess in the middle of the forest. I'd say that's gone beyond acceptable entertainment."
Vergil takes a step forward.
The stands creak.
Some entities lean back instinctively. "I was going to kill her."
