Loki was sitting with his back to the wall. He liked to keep an eye on what was happening around him. When you are in a cell, you find new ways to occupy yourself: For Loki it was currently watching a tiny creature climb slowly down the wall. He was fascinated by its cautious movement, even though it would be better to leap ahead. Loki had taken to thinking up proverbs to go with his observations to keep him entertained. He could not really call it entertainment though. He knew he was tipping too far over the edge of insanity. He was a clever god, and he liked being able to calculate and plan, so loosing it completely would be much to his disadvantage. So he clung onto the remaining threads, even though he could not see what they were, and kept himself from crossing that line.

The god of mischief and lies ran a hand through his long, dark hair. It had grown a little since he had been imprisoned, and as a captive, he had been unable to slick it back in his usual preferred style. He wanted to get it cut, but they would not let him anywhere near sharp objects. His eyes were greener than ever with jealousy for his brother. How dare this buffoon be allowed to ascend to the throne over him? After all that he had done for his family, his home. He had accomplished so much, learned of magic and science that could have been of service to the people of Asguard. Instead here he was, with his arms locked behind his back, left to wallow in his grief and misery. He would not though. He was proud of what he had tried to achieve. What he had achieved. Why should he suffer for what Thor had never had the guts to do?

The footsteps began quietly down the long, corridor. All of Asguard was grand and beautiful, but the prison was grand in a very different way. It was bleak and oppressive. There were no quirks to the architecture or artistic flares in the rooms. There was only light and shadow, on the overbearing walls of the dungeon. The footsteps echoed, though the sound muffled with each prisoner it passed, and grew louder as the figures drew closer to Loki. He did not bother to look up. It could be either of two possibilities: Guards on patrol, or the agonizingly nauseating god of thunder, come to plead with him to see 'sense' as he called it. The thought made Loki want to laugh until his lungs were sore. His lungs were already sore though, as were most parts of his now malnourished body.

Half way down the corridor, the footsteps stopped. Loki was not paying attention, so he did not hear the conversation between the two men,

"You should speak with him alone. He becomes enraged in my presence, or worse..."

"Worse?"

"Hysterical." One pair of footsteps began walking back down the corridor, away from Loki, while the other approached him. He had recognized one voice as Thor's, though he had chosen to ignore it, and presumed that the one now striding towards him was the idiot himself. Loki smirked, wondering how to make the best of this visit. Should he tease the lovelorn god by pretending to out of his mind? Or perhaps he should raise his hopes, before crushing them completely. These were, in fact, the only ways in which Loki could stand to be anywhere near the righteous one. As the footsteps finally stopped in front of his cell however, Loki became aware that Thor had never been light footed, nor had he ever worn what Midguardians called 'jeans'.

Loki looked up to see Thor exiting the dungeon through the door at the end of the corridor, then gazed up higher, to see the man lounging against the wall opposite from him. The corners of Loki's mouth raised in amusement. What was a mortal doing in Asguard? Why would they send a Midguardian to see him? Was the all-father that desperate? He chuckled hoarsely: He had not used his voice much at all since he had been imprisoned, though he had shouted at Thor upon occasion, until he had decided that it was only serving to hurt his throat and lungs. That had caused him to settle upon teasing and toying with his ignorance. It was so easy to manipulate the emotions of the one who had left him feeling so bereft for all of his life. It satisfied Loki to see the hurt and discomfort on the puppy's face. He was always left with a deep sense of emptiness though, after every encounter, whether they fought or not. Now it would seem that Thor had given up on him at last, and sent someone else to do his dirty work for him. And Loki had questions for this man.

Tony Stark had his back to the cold, hard wall. He was not sure what to make of this place. He had seen prisons far more dingy and rotten than this one, but none had been quite so eerie and sinister as this. He had felt the weight upon entering the corridor, the sadness and anger that hung in the air around him. It was not Tony's style at all,

"Listen buddy," Tony began, his eyes to the floor, "This ain't exactly my area of expertise but I don't think this place is doing much good for your sanity any more than your doe-eyed brother."

"Ha!" Loki almost choked at the way the man spoke of Thor, "Believe me, I'd rather spend an eternity in this place than one more second with that lummox, who by the way, is not my brother." Tony could almost feel the malice in those words. The god was jesting, playing along with Tony's chosen style of conversation, but there was real hatred in his gruff voice. He could feel the hurt too. Tony only knew the very surface of why this man had fallen out with his family, but he was beginning to wonder how much of it was actually Loki's fault.

"Well you don't have to talk to him today. He sent me instead. Lucky you." Tony flashed his most charming smile,

"Lucky you." Loki bit back, "You have all the time in the world to talk to a god. Does that not sound fun?" He smiled slyly. Tony was not sure what to make of that,

"Oh I'm afraid I won't be the one talking. I'm here on a 'quest' you see." Loki's gaze was now scrutinizing, as he searched the man for humour or sincerity. He was relieved to see humour, and not a waste of time, here to probe him for useless information. Instead Loki had a new play thing: He would wring this human dry, before laughing as they sent him back, cowering to his own realm,

"And what do you endeavour to have me say?" Loki tasted the air between them, his curiosity rising quickly around this strange, chaotic creature. Tony had his own rules, and his own ideals. Loki had had his forced upon him, until he had turned against them all. What had allowed this man to find freedom? But Loki supposed that even now he was being used. On Asguard they called it power, and on Midguard they called it wealth, but this so called billionaire was here, doing some menial errand for an oaf. What hope was there for the sorcerer?

"You can say what you like." Tony's head cocked to the side slightly, "I'm here to brighten up your life apparently." Loki guffawed,

"Brighten up my what?" He had to roll over onto his side to stiffle the sound, as his laughter rolled out from the pit of his stomach, "Have they lost that much pride? To send me a jester?" Tony was surprised to see that the god's tone had noticeably lightened, whether he was aware of it or not,

"Anyway, I'm going to see about them finding you a less... dispiriting room to stay in. Prisoner or not. This place would make the craziest guy feel worse." Tony watched as the chuckles finally died down, and the god turned back to face him,

"Why how caring of you. Next you will send someone to warm my bed. Hell they may as well throw me back into my own chamber. It was not much more pleasant I assure you." Something strange gleamed in Loki's forest eyes for a second, before retreating to the back of his mind. Tony decided he would have to look at that room. If he was going to help this guy, he'd need a better idea of what he was dealing with. So far, he could only see a long task ahead of him. But he had already got the guy joking right? Perhaps it was worth sticking around for a while, at least until progress ceased. What was the next step after amusement anyway? Tony wondered; surely acceptance was supposed to come first? Did that mean Loki was already fully aware of what had caused his own downfall? Or perhaps that was the whole problem: That Loki knew exactly what was wrong with him, and felt powerless to help himself. Tony was not surprised, it did not look like this guy had any friends. Okay, so perhaps trust was the next step.

"My room wasn't exactly homely, but then neither was home." Tony instantly regretted the statement,

"You wish to compare your pathetic constructs with the grandeur of Asguard? I am a god. I grew up in a palace built for gods. What do you think it is like to have that taken from you? To be denied the throne after all that time..." Loki seemed to be speaking as if to someone else,

"And now you're in a prison built for gods." Tony stood up, and walked over to the cell, gripping the bars with his hands, "I may not have been through the extremes of heaven and hell, but believe me I know what its like to fall. I also know how to get back up again."

"Huh," Loki's glared right up at him, "You seem to be under the impression that there is somewhere for me to get back up to." Tony paused. He had to win this argument if he was going to have any hope of convincing Loki to trust him,

"I couldn't see it either: But it was there, and it turns out all I needed was someone to show me the way." When Loki did not reply, Tony began walking away, "I'm going to get something to eat. I'll talk to someone about getting you out of here. I wonder where a guy can get shwarma around here."