Dark admired Loki for a moment. Not in any sense of looking up to the man--god, whatever he was. No, indeed, it was more admiration of Loki's presentation, for there he stood in all his glory. So well put together! Were he a different man, a weaker man, Mr. Dark might have been cowed by the being before him. Now he merely looked him over and inhaled a deep breath. He didn't need to in order to read Loki, of course, but the visible show of his own ease was meant to unsettle. He wasn't afraid.
But Loki, on the other hand. What was that he detected?
He lowered his hand a bit and casually began rolling up the sleeve on his left arm, exposing his skin inch by inch. Only, it wasn't the pale skin of a teenager marred with the occasional rough-housing bruise. No. Every inch of Dark's skin was covered in ink, the faces and figures were the representations of the many men and women Dark had seduced with his evil power--those who had succumbed to him. They were all in various states of agony, writhing in their misery. The images moved when Dark flexed his hand, forcing them alive by all accounts. And there on the skin upon his forearm appeared Loki's visage itself, reflecting the innermost monster of Loki's being.
Dark extended his arm to allow him a glimpse. Lucky, or unlucky really, there were the faint glow of lights nearby. They were not completely cast in shadow.
"I wish to discuss our current.. uh, situation," he said blithely, his happiness false. Mocking. "It would seem we're at a.. crossroads of sorts. How did you know it was me?" he asks quietly, his voice hinting at something.. dangerous.