[ Dead, dead, dead. The word echoes around Loki's mind. All else seems to be fading. There's a nervous almost deadly energy within him and Loki knows he will snap soon. He runs a hand through his hair and grips his own arm. His fingers twitch erratically. ]
It . . . is hard to picture that man ever . . . dying.
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It . . . is hard to picture that man ever . . . dying.