It was cold. Not that kind of cold that mortals and asgardians felt when in the snow, he had never felt that kind of cold – he was a Jotun after all. But he was sure, judging from the descriptions he had heard of 'outside-cold', that outside-cold would be a much more 'pleasant' experience, than the one he felt in that moment, the one he felt ever so often and which always left his insides raw and bleeding. "Tony" A simple word, twisted by cold, and which never should have left his lips. If only Tony had been there with him, his mere presence would have chased the cold away and given the word more meaning that it should be possible for a word to hold. But the stupid mortal wasn't there, and Loki where for once at his full senses in spite of the cold. He shook his head and rubbed his arms in a foolish attempt to rub away the cold which only exited in his own mind, but also to push away the useless memories of a useless mortal. Loki was a god he didn't need a mortals help just because of a little cold – no matter how much the feeling hurt him. But it did not matter, for soon he would have all the mortals kneeling for him, and his bro- Thor wouldn't be able to anything about it, he would finally have to see Lokis worth. Yes, Ton- Stark wouldn't like it, but he was nothing but a foolish mortal, his lifespan no longer than the blink of an eye compared to Lokis, so it would be of no use to get used to his warmth. No. Loki rubbed his arms again, though this time it was to rub out all the useless memories of secret meetings, quick glances, sarcastic jokes, happy laughs and passionate kisses. And it seemed to work, but the cold left together with the memories and left nothing but odd numbness. An odd, but perfect numbness. The numbness made it so much easier for him to put on that mischieving smirk and oversee the Iron Man as he allowed the show to go on. Allowed his fate to get him.