"Helen! Come back!"
Loki called out symbolically, and only after nearly another minute did Helen finally run back.
By then, both Sylvie herself and this spacious office had gone from high-tech cyberpunk to a battered wasteland aesthetic.
Originally, Sylvie had worn an ordinary T-shirt and jeans, along with a dark jacket and the goggles commonly worn by people here.
Now, her jacket had become tattered strips of cloth, half of one jeans leg had vanished, and her goggles had been completely shattered.
She stood there in a sorry state, like a madwoman who had just burst out of an asylum.
Helen leaped onto Loki with a whoosh. Just as she was about to show off what she had done, she realized that Loki was not in good shape.
He had remained in a daze, lost in memories of the past.
In truth, even before the Time Variance Authority took him away, his mental state could not have been called healthy. Just as Odin had said, he had always been in an irritable state, so much so that he had unusually failed to show Frigga any respect.
And after Sylvie brought up that dark day again, the scenes from that day became like a film set on single-episode repeat, every detail replaying over and over in Loki's mind.
It was a compulsive behavior he could not control. The more he remembered, the sadder he became; the sadder he became, the less control he had.
Sylvie, covered in grime, rushed over, but she did not get too close. Helen was like a vicious dragon guarding its treasure, baring sharp fangs and ready to bite Sylvie another six hundred times at any moment.
Sylvie took a deep breath, silently moved a hand to her waist, and looked at Loki. "I'm different from you.