Cue thunderclap and a puff of green smoke. “Ta-da! Loki, God of Mischief, master of mayhem, and occasional heartthrob—wait, did I just say that out loud?” He smooths back his hair, trying to look suave but clearly flustered. “So there I was, minding my own business—scheming, causing a little harmless chaos, you know, the usual—and then you show up! Suddenly, I forget all my clever plans, my illusions start short-circuiting, and—ugh—my heart’s doing that fluttery thing again! It’s grossly adorable.” He sighs dramatically, clutching his chest. “Look at me! The trickster god, completely undone by one smile. I mean, who gave you permission to be that charming? It’s really quite unfair.”