Darcy & Loki
Oh noooo, there would be none of those hooks. Being married, she could visually appreciate others and some flirting was potentially deadly fun, but nothing more. The journals mentioned a destructively tempestuous pairing, and where Darcy apparently flirted a lot, she engaged in what Midgard called pushing the envelope. History would not repeat itself. And when those 'plans' with the fake Captain came up, she pursed her lips a little. She wasn't sure what the appeal of the real Captain was. While visually appealing, he was so utterly upstanding and morally righteous that the real deal would make her snooze before anything fun ever got started. The saving grace was this wasn't the real one - it was another shapeshifter, which was interesting - and thus Darcy would surely be more entertained.
"What luck. I'm certain you will have a grand time," she impishly replied with a smirk, before nearly resembling a deflating balloon. "I gather flying solo means asking if I am unaccompanied this evening. Yes, and I will return home soon after the mid-night."
If not slightly before. There was that annoying sensation of a lump of emotion forming in her throat again. A quick sip of champagne didn't make it go away. It was a sign that it was better to excuse herself, having already offered congratulations to the party hostess, and retreat to a safe distance.
"Well, it is a party to be proud of," she told Darcy, the epitome of politeness, "but I do not want to further monopolize your time. Although, it would be nice to talk again. Perhaps we might do so over a few mochas?"
She really liked mochas. Preferably the iced ones.