It was possibly the last person Loki would want to find him as he bled into the dirt and debris of the alley of Midgard. In fact, what caused that mortal to look down the alley, he would never know. Maybe it was a glint of metal, a shift of movement, or fate. All Bruce knew was something did catch his eye, and he looked, and saw a crumpled figure of a body laying on the ground.
He stopped in the mouth of the alley, hesitating there. The snow was starting to fall heavy and he was aching with the cold; his bones had the heat of Calcutta soaked into them and the cold was leeching the sorely missed warmth away. He pulled his coat around him a little tighter, studying the figure. A bum, surely, or a druggie or drunken sap sleeping off their addiction of choice.
It was the glint of light on liquid that made him walk down the alley even as his mind said he should turn away, but his heart said he was a doctor first before anything else.
The last thing he expected as he knelt beside the figure, a hand reaching out to see if they were conscious, was to recognize the man.
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He stopped in the mouth of the alley, hesitating there. The snow was starting to fall heavy and he was aching with the cold; his bones had the heat of Calcutta soaked into them and the cold was leeching the sorely missed warmth away. He pulled his coat around him a little tighter, studying the figure. A bum, surely, or a druggie or drunken sap sleeping off their addiction of choice.
It was the glint of light on liquid that made him walk down the alley even as his mind said he should turn away, but his heart said he was a doctor first before anything else.
The last thing he expected as he knelt beside the figure, a hand reaching out to see if they were conscious, was to recognize the man.
"Loki...!"