The cat seemed to be mildly amused. At least, she didn't use those wicked-looking claws on him, which was a plus in Loki's book. She asked his name, followed by a string of foreign words he couldn't quite follow, let alone understand. It was in all probability an insult of some form, but unlike his oafish brother Loki was more than capable of swallowing his pride.
"I am called Loki, oh most majestic of felines." She hadn't offered her own name; Loki wouldn't risk antagonizing her by inquiring after it before she was ready to give it.
The cougar had made no move to close the gap between them after that initial approach, so Loki followed suit and kept his distance. Particularly considering the rather lethal size of the claws she was nibbling on as she watched him. It was actually rather thrilling to be so near the dangerous creature, to be speaking to her. An interest that the dull beasts of his own species rarely provoked in him just by deigning to speak with him.
