Hela’s intuition taught her many things during her long life. Yes, she saw the troubling flicker of madness in Creed’s eyes. She could practically smell it rolling off him. What concerned her was the very mortal side of the beast in front of her. She saw the quiet shadow of pain and memory in the brief crease of the creature’s brow and the weight that seemed to press upon his shoulders as Creed spoke of his daughter. Hela frowned, having seen this posture before and found it unpleasant.
“You remind me of Loki.” She grumbled. “He longs for children stolen from him, whilst you grieve for a child you have not yet destroyed.”
After a long moment her arms uncrossed to rest a hand against her hip. “How many Asgardians can you kill before you get bored, stranger? I have played this game with my brother, Fenrir, many centuries ago...he found it unsatisfactory. According to him, a kill becomes commonplace once you’ve done it a dozen times, no matter how exciting the prey was in the beginning.” She paused to examine the long black nails of her other hand, her frown deepening. “I can feed the beast inside you that craves for murder...but are you prepared for my vengeance when the beast chooses to bite the hand which feeds?