For Asgard!

"I couldn't agree more. We're an unpleasant lot," Loki said, genially. "The inferior sex. I'm a bit disappointed I'm back here at it once again."

When she came to sit down beside him on the grass he shifted, sitting up a bit more himself instead of retaining the easy sprawl he had been in while reading. For a second his eyes briefly brushed over her exposed stomach, which was certainly not something he had never seen before over their years knowing each other but was not, after all, an unwelcome sight. Still, he didn't linger - look too long at Sif and she might hit you square between the ears if she was in that mood, and he hadn't had quite enough wine to risk it.

"The wine is only decent, not good," he warned her. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen so much of your skin without a good lake or swimming pool nearby." He knew the same could be said of himself; Loki preferred to be swathed in fabric, always, and even the way he was dressed right now, he felt more exposed than Sif looked. "We are very barbaric. Later, we shall get drunk and set fire to one of the tables in The Smoking Room."