Jim narrowed his eyes, stepping forward once more and not holding back as he fiercely back handed her, strong enough to dislocate her jaw without balling his hand into a fist. He knew she could fight but he also seen her do it before and knew every move, taking the surprised strike of his to pin her once more against the wall.
“You want real fear? Real pain? Fine. I’ll give it to you,” he growled, pulling out a blade from his person, shining it in front of her. “I may not want to kill you, but I can carve up that pretty face of yours. Would you like that? Maybe blind you for good measure…but no, I’d want you to look yourself in the mirror and remember I did this to you.”
“And even with your threats and that knife of yours, I’m not shaking.” She managed to say even with the pain in her jaw. Irene’s hand moved from her shoulder to her jaw, caressing it to hopefully numb the dull ache.
“Irene Adler, you say?” Name wasn’t familiar. Torturously blank face staring back at him. Expensive, high-class clothing. He ran his hand through his hair, frowning for a second before wiping his own face to match.
Irene placed her hand against her cheek, smiling slyly as she rested her elbow upon her knee. “That is my name, though I prefer going by ‘The Woman.’” She chuckled. Keep on reading, Mister Holmes. I’m interested to see what you’ll find. She thought to herself.
Quirking an eyebrow, he regarded her with some surprise. “The Woman?” So, bit of an ego. Top of her game. Job needs confidence. But she’s no manager. No…
“Yes, Mister Holmes.” She could see that little hamster running his little heart out on his wheel as Sherlock struggled to make connections that would probably divulge who she was or what she does. “Any luck figuring anything out yet?”
He sat back, regarding her with a small, smug smile on his face. “You offer a service. In a way. Yourself. You are the service. How, exactly?”
“Fancy a guess then, Mister Holmes?” She smirked. Irene leaned back in her chair , crossing her legs as her eyes watched him.
“Loki of Asgard,” She repeated, noting his air of confidence and his sly smile. He who carried himself with presumption. “That is such a strange title, none that I have ever heard from.”
“Asgard is where I hail from; it it my home.” He cocked his head as he spoke, fixated on the woman. “It is a different realm quite unlike your Earth. Unfortunately I have somehow found myself trapped here, with only an idea of how to return..”
“Only an idea of how to return?” Irene crossed her arms in front of her, giving this man a curious look over. “What is this idea of yours, if I may ask?”