The echo of the unfamiliar sweetness lingered on Jane's lips, on her tongue. Harsher, more bitter than she was used to – yes, certainly, and yet… there was a boldness, a defiant intensity about it that she couldn't help but be thrilled by. You are no longer a child, Jane Maureen Foster, it whispered to her. How can my brother's facile mildness continue to satisfy you now?
"Well, Jane?" said Loki – softly, insinuatingly.
Jane took a deep breath. "All right, you win," she said. "The dark Hershey's Kisses are better than the milk-chocolate ones."
The God of Mischief smiled in triumph.
Disclaimer: Loki Laufeyson is a product of Norse mythology, and Jane Foster of the imagination of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby; the versions of them seen here, however, we owe to J. Michael Straczynski and Mark Protosevich. "Hershey's Kisses" is, of course, a trademark of the Hershey Company, while the immediate inspiration for this particular use of them came from Mehetabelo's title "Black Kisses".
(Yes, I am padding this disclaimer outrageously. That's so that my regular readers don't see this 100-word story, wonder why I didn't give it a one-word title the way I usually do, and suspect what I'm up to ahead of time. And so I'd also like to take this opportunity to say that I'm sorry if I sabotaged anybody's Lenten observances – and that it's shameful how Ragnarök didn't at least give Jane some suitably romantic off-screen death or disappearance – and, speaking of romance, that I don't know what happened to that King-Solomon's-Mines-with-superpowers vibe that Black Panther clearly promised us in its first… okay, okay, I'm stopping. I've stopped.)