It had, perhaps, been ill-advised to be quite so late, especially after all the previous delays and setbacks, but in his defense, the particular adversary that had necessitated this living arrangement had proven herself cleverer than the average mortal. Thus, it had taken longer to apprehend the villain. Much, much longer.
Loki had already lined up several good, solid, logical, completely truthful and verifiable reasons for his tardiness, not to mention aforementioned delays, but he was beginning to suspect that she wouldn't be entirely receptive.
The fact that the rather too-ostentatious-to-be-called-cabin cabin that had been her home for three months was burning almost merrily was clue number one that all was Not Well. However, it was the way Darcy sprawled nonchalantly on a padded lounger in the yard, a crystal champagne flute dangling from her fingers, a large, wide-brimmed hat perched at a jaunty angle on her dark curls, surveying the flames consuming the cabin with a casual disinterest that really worried him.
There was music playing softly in the background, a woman singing, "We don't need another hero - we don't need took know the way home." Her selection was a wee bit on the nose, but they'd apparently left subtlety by the wayside, and had moved directly to full scale musical warfare. He was the first to admit she had the advantage over him there.
He was glad to see that her luggage: a variety of bags and cages for bird and hamster - apparently full or occupied - were abandoned in the grass near her feet, since he was sure any items that had been inadvertently left behind in the inferno to burn would be blamed on him.
An unfamiliar, battle-scarred tomcat purred with contentment in her lap, allowing Darcy to stroke it's fur with a beneficent expression on it's face, as if it knew the pleasure of the act itself was greater than the receiving. The cat glanced at him before Darcy did, and lazily yawned, showing off huge curved insisors, as if by chance, and not a show of dominance.
Eventually, slowly, Darcy Louise Lewis - the great love of his very long life - turned to face him. If he squeaked a little it was likely because he couldn't see her eyes for the fire reflected in her glasses, and possibly, maybe a little, momentarily, the expression on her face made him fear for his life. Just a bit.
"Hello, darling?" he had intended it as a statement, but it had become a question under her scrutiny. "Is everything, that is to say, are you quite alright?" He was hoping for a logical explanation for the fiery demise of the cabin in the woods, but also some sign that he wasn't in the proverbial doghouse. He knew in his heart of hearts that neither would be forthcoming.
"Oh, look," Darcy said, tone far too carefree for the events that were transpiring, as she had just noticed him standing there, somewhat slack-jawed. "You made it. Awesome! And I'm just dandy, thank you for asking," her lips curled into what should have been a delighted smile, except he knew her. She was planning revenge.
Loki waited for her continue, for her to reveal something, anything to explain any of the events unfolding. Infuriating minx that she was, she took a generous sip of the bubbly drink, and kept mum. Blast. She was going to make him ask. There was something almost perverse about having to ask how the dwelling she had been occupying came to be flaming, but this was where his life had led him.
"So, I couldn't help but notice that the cabin is ... well, it's on fire. Care to elaborate on how that came to pass?"
Darcy lifted a careless shoulder, "Frey brought me a half-dead bat."
There was a beat while he waited for her to explain further, but she just sat there, calmly sipping champagne.
"...And Frey is?" Loki prompted.
"The cat." The obviously was left unsaid, but clearly implied. "He likes to bring me gifts. They're generally super gross dead animals, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it, kitty-love?" She scratched the cat behind his ear, and the cat purred even louder.
He was going to regret asking, but he'd come too far to back out now, "How does that figure into -," he waved an expansive hand in the direction of the fire.
"Oh, well, the bat knocked into a candle, which landed in some curtains, and next thing I knew... whoosh. Seemed easier to just move on out here, rather than deal with it, especially since you were due to arrive."
"But not before you grabbed the important things, I see," he nodded to a case of champagne sitting within easy reach of her spot on the lounger.
"It's important to have priorities," Darcy sniffed primly.
"I can't help but think that perhaps, just maybe, said priorities should have included not burning down one of Stark's safe havens?"
"I hate it here," Darcy said cheerfully. It was disconcerting, the conspiratorial smile she gave him, "I'm done being left behind. I don't care if its for my safety, if you dump me off in some far off locale again, I swear I'll burn that place down to the ground, too." Her tone changed abruptly, and he heard fury vibrating through the two words; "We clear?"
Loki nodded. Emphatically, because he did actually want to have sex with her again at some point in the future.
"Good, good," the cheer was back in her voice again. "Champagne?" she asked as she plucked a dark green bottle from the case of them and waved it at him.
Loki shakes his head, and she shrugs, replacing the bottle with a casual sort of dismissal. A loud boom sounded as the roof collapsed, a shower of sparks and flame lighting the yard. Darcy sighed happily, "Ready to go, Loki? I think I'm done here."