Thor snorted, ignored him, and continued eating.
Wanda ate quietly, occasionally looking up at the others at the dining table.
Everyone was different, but sitting together, there was a strange harmony.
She suddenly remembered that in the HYDRA Base, there had never been a scene like this.
The dining room was cold, the seats were fixed, the food was rationed, and eating was a task rather than an enjoyment.
But now, she was sitting in front of a round table surrounded by four people, with no one commanding her what to eat, how much to eat, or how fast to eat.
She could eat slowly, choose her favorite dishes, and put down her bowl to take a sip of soup before continuing.
Is this the feeling of "home"?
Wanda did not know.
But she thought, if this was "home", then she was willing to stay.
After the meal, Pietro took the initiative to clean up the bowls and chopsticks and carried them into the kitchen.
Wanda followed behind him, picked up the dishcloth, and began washing the dishes.
The two did not speak, but their cooperation was tacit—Pietro put the bowls and chopsticks into the sink, Wanda washed them and handed them to him, and he dried them with a dry towel and put them into the dish rack.
Mavuika walked into the kitchen, saw them washing dishes, did not stop them, but just leaned against the door frame and watched quietly.
"You don't have to do everything yourselves," he said, "There's a dishwasher."
Pietro turned back. "A dishwasher?"
Mavuika pointed to the built-in silver machine next to the stove. "Put the bowls in, press a button, and it washes itself."
Pietro looked at the machine, then at the bowl in his hand, thought about it, and still continued to wash by hand. "Let's use it next time, this is almost done washing."
Mavuika smiled, didn't say anything more, and turned to walk out of the kitchen.
Wanda lowered her head, washing the dishes earnestly, the sound of Water gurgling drowning out other sounds.
But her ears caught the sound of Mavuika's footsteps when leaving—very light, very steady, neither hurried nor slow.
She suddenly said: "Pietro."
"Hmm?"
"Do you think... that Mavuika, what does he actually want to get from us?"
Pietro's hand drying the bowl paused for a moment. "Maybe... he doesn't want to get anything?"
Wanda looked up at him.
Pietro put the bowl into the dish rack, picked up another bowl, and continued to dry it.
"In the Base, everyone wants to get something from us. Scientists want data, trainers want obedience, those people in suits want weapons, but he—"
He paused.
"The way he looks at us is different from those people."
Wanda was silent.
She remembered the way Mavuika looked at her—not looking at a weapon, not looking at an experimental subject, not looking at a tool that needed to be controlled and utilized.
But one person to another person, one soul to another soul.
"Maybe." Wanda said softly.
After finishing the dishes, Wanda and Pietro walked out of the kitchen, ready to go upstairs to rest.
"Wait a minute." Wanda suddenly caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye, and she walked over to the bookshelf and pulled a book out from it.
Lowering her head, she glanced at the cover—Norse mythology.
"Is this what they were talking about just now..." Wanda looked at the book in her hand.
Pietro leaned over to take a look and nodded. "This is it, what Asgard..."
Wanda opened the first page and saw an illustration of a blonde man standing in thunder and lightning, holding a hammer, roaring to the sky.
Written beside him was his name, Thor.
Wanda raised her head and looked at Thor.
He was curled up on the sofa watching TV, his hoodie stained with the juice of scrambled eggs with tomatoes, his slippers slouched crookedly on his feet, and his whole person looked far from the image in that illustration.
"Is this him?" Wanda asked, her tone carrying a hint of uncertainty.
Pietro was also a bit hesitant. "It should be... blonde, a big guy, uses a hammer, and can also discharge electricity..."
Pietro clapped his hands: "It's him for sure!"
Thor heard it, turned his head and grinned. "Am I much more handsome than in the drawing!"
Loki turned a page of the book without raising his head. "You are much fatter than in the drawing."
Thor's face turned red. "That's not fat! It's muscle!"
Loki said indifferently: "Muscle and fat are sometimes hard to distinguish."
Thor was so angry he couldn't speak, grabbed the throw pillow on the sofa and was about to smash it over, but seeing Mavuika's gaze, he quietly put it down again.
Wanda looked at this scene, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.
She lowered her head and continued flipping through the book, turning to another page featuring a black-haired man wearing green robes with a hint of a sly smile on the corners of his mouth.
God of Mischief Loki.
Wanda looked at the illustration in the book, then looked at the man reading on the sofa.
Loki felt her gaze, raised his head, and slightly raised an eyebrow.
"Does it look like it?" he asked.
Wanda thought about it. "The temperament is like it."
The corners of Loki's mouth curved up slightly. "Thank you."
Wanda continued to flip, turning to the last page.
The title of that page was "sun goddess", and the illustration depicted a woman whose hair was Burning.
Wanda looked up at Mavuika, intuition telling her that the person on this page was him.
sun goddess... how incredible...
Pietro on the side watched with great interest, as if reading some truly existing vernacular novel.
The night grew deep.
Wanda lay on the bed, tossing and turning unable to sleep.
That book of Norse mythology was placed on the bedside table, and Thor on the cover shimmered slightly under the moonlight.
The door was gently pushed open. Pietro poked his head in, his hair messy, his eyes half-open and half-closed.
"Wanda, still not asleep?"
Wanda put down the book. "Can't sleep."
Pietro walked in and sat down by her bed. "Me too."
The two were silent for a moment.
Pietro suddenly said: "Do you think... can we also be like them?"
Wanda looked at him. "Like what?"
Pietro thought about it. "Like them... living, without having to hide, without having to be afraid, without being ordered around by people, doing whatever we want to do."
Wanda was silent for a long time.
Then she said: "Maybe we can."
Pietro turned his head to look at her.
Wanda looked at the moonlight outside the window and said softly: "At least, we can try."
Pietro nodded. "Then let's try."
He stood up and walked back to his room. When he reached the door, he looked back at Wanda.
"Good night, Wanda."
"Good night, Pietro."
Pietro widened his eyes: "You should call me brother!"
Wanda rolled over and ignored him.
Pietro curled his lips, didn't force it, and turned to leave.
The door closed, and Wanda lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling, still holding the book of myths in her hands.
Moonlight leaked in from the gaps in the curtains, casting a silvery-white strip of light on the floor.
Outside the window, the night wind of Long Island gently blew past, carrying the fragrance of lavender and the low murmur of distant waves.
Wanda closed her eyes and slowly fell asleep.
This time, she didn't have a nightmare.
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