Loki sat down on the rest of motorcylce that she had previously inspected, her elbow resting on the handlebar. She never took her gaze off the mutant's face, thinking that he, for all the chaos it must have created, would have made a convincing leader of the world.
Anytime other than now, at least. For the first time, Magneto's imposing aura wavered, and he looked like a mortal man as weak as any other, even somewhat weary, grey hair and wrinkles more noticeable. And with his history, it was no wonder at all. Yet, though Loki had tried to be a good father, and it had arguably been one of the few things he had (under the special circumstances) been rather succesful at, Magneto's story didn't awake distaste. Loki was no stranger to bad decisions.
"Your daughter has not wreaked such havoc where I come from." She reached out and touched Magneto's cheek gently with her fingertips for a moment. It might seem condescending, but Magneto was a lot younger than her, and she felt a certain connection at this time.
Casually shifting back into his male form, for the factor of recognition, Loki leaned forward a little. "I am sure your deeds and mistakes have caused events beyond the scale where friendly words could help you. But you might have found another of the two or three on this planet who can relate to the idea of having, accidentally, almost caused the end of his people," he said with a small smile. No, he had never wanted to cause Ragnarök, despite what people thought of him, but he had been damn near close to it once (only to have his brother Thor, perplexingly, be the one who went through with it, but that was a different story). "People here seem to have forgiven you, though, or did it just never happen?"