She pulls back from the kiss long enough to hook her hands in the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, and when the waves of her hair tumble back against her shoulders, she finds Loki's mouth once more. Both her hands go to frame his face, holding his cheeks in her palms, her tongue sliding against his before she sinks her fingers into his hair.

They're not the same. No matter what they've said to one another, no matter what anyone else has said. They're no more the same than anyone else, shaped by their worlds, and Sylvie is glad his world has turned him out like this.

She pulls back again, then kisses his top of his shoulder, then pale plane of his chest, pushing him back down to the ground again with both her hands on his skin.