Steve remained statuesque, frozen amongst the ice within the atmosphere. His eyes darted to Thor, then to Loki, then back to Thor; as if observing a silent tennis match of tension.

Loki was still hunched over, lanky arms wrapped around his knobbly knees in a tight - almost suffocating - embrace. He rocked back and forth, slightly and muttered incoherently to himself; his brow furrowed and eyes clouded, as he immersed himself within his reveries. The God made it a priority not to make his thoughts audible to those around him; Loki was a rigid, private person... except, when he was drunk, of course. The other two gazed at him, wondering just what exactly plagued that maze of a mind.

Steve decided he didn't really want to know.

However, Thor was constantly desperate to know, to understand. The Thunder God was always resilient, determined, consistent in his attempts to find his brother, again. The Captain - being a soldier - could understand that; a soldier must fight, even if the said 'fight' was a losing fight. However, it was worth it if you were fighting for the right cause, wasn't it?

Loki looked to Thor, to Steve and back to Thor; deducting their stance and scrutinising their expressions, as if he could read their minds akin to one of his beloved books. He'd always, secretly, admired the trait of persistency that Thor - and, now, he discovered, the Captain - possessed. Loki envied that; he who seemed to lack that form of... conviction.

Loki flinched at the memory; the final jibe from the mortal:

"You lack conviction."

What seemed to kindle Loki's hatred of the man the most was the fact he had been right. It was the truth and the truth had a horrible habit of provoking Loki. That's why he killed the mortal; it was easier to seek refuge within lies and fabrication.

As much as he convinced himself he despised Thor, his father, the Avengers, Loki's worst enemies were truth, honesty and memories.

Truth: the betrayal of those he thought his kin, us discovery that he was nothing more than a runt abandoned by a monster, to realise he was just a pawn that was never meant to rule.

Honesty: the realisation that his brother still loved him - despite all he'd done - and threatened to suck him into the that disastrous cult he'd once deemed "family", the final words of his 'father' causing his decent into the void, to be told he was unworthy... no matter how hard he tried.

Memories: those hideous parasites that took pleasure in awakening what could never be attained, what had even promised: the childish hope of becoming a king of wisdom, the loving arms of his mother, the blissful innocence of childhood days with Thor.

A dark smirk creeped upon Loki's lips: a God that could not even face something as simple as nostalgia, as... sentiment.

He gave a curt and bitter laugh: it was all so pathetic.

The two blondes snapped their heads toward him, gaze locked and curious. Loki, merely, stared into the abyss, eyes deceased and hopeless:

"What... chance is there for me?"

The God spat the words into the surrounding debris, suppressing a batch of bitter laughter. Unsettled by his brother's words, Thor then decided to portray that classic resilience or - as thought by Loki - nativity.

"Loki, there is always hope—"

"Hope?" Loki snapped, indignantly. He became forlorn once more, "...hope is the cruelest of lies, Thor."

Steve watched hurt twist into the Thunder God's features but, then, saw how the God clenched his fists, determined not believe the callous words of the silver-tongue. He watched Thor approach his brother - cautiously, of course - and crouch his broad frame to Loki's level.

Thor truly believed there was hope for the God of Lies.

Steve thought it admirable. I mean,
Loki was crazy, insane, psychotic; it was almost impressive Thor could spy a broken child beneath it all.

Steve then realised, such a thing wasn't surprising - or impressive - at all; it was just brothers.

"Brother..." Thor placed a large hand upon his brother's slight shoulder. "There is still hope for redemption within you, yet." His words were tender, solemn; brilliant, blue eyes stared into twins of poisonous green and they blazed with sincerity; no hint of a lie.

This only angered Loki, further.

It made sense - to Loki, at least - that he be branded the God of Lies; for the truth always hurt too much to hear.

"Redemption?" Loki curled his upper lip into a contemptuous sneer. He spat the word, as if it be a curse; well, perhaps it was... or, rather, a promise he could not keep.

Redemption: it was just another lie.

Loki gave a hollow laugh - Steve flinched at the sound - it seemed to vocalise the God's emptiness, as if his heart was just a vacant space. He smirked, eying the Thunder God with bitter amusement:

"You are a fool, a fool with a ridiculous amount of... optimism..." - his sneering mask dropped to reveal a glimmer of... something - "...yet, another attribute I envy you of... brother." He visibly flinched toward his last word but a minute smile played amongst his lips.

A pregnant silence followed: Steve was both apprehensive and captivated, Thor - hand still on his brother's shoulder - stared into Loki with a feeling of naive hope and Loki, himself, bore an expression of exhaustion.

The silence then passed, as Loki shifted his skeletal form and - with a groan of pain - attempted to stand. He swayed, violently; a leaden sensation creeping into his head, reminding him much he'd drank. Thor - again - offered a hand to steady him and, this time, the trickster allowed it. Steve could not combat a smile; to see moments of such rarity between the brothers was, actually, very heartwarming.

Then he remembered Loki fancied himself as a genocidal dictator. Still, we all have flaws, right?

The Captain's eyes returned to the trickster. Loki immersed deft fingers within his charcoal mass of hair - massaging his aching scalp - and gave a saddened sigh.

"My last taste of the air of outsiders", the slight God mused, whimsically. "Then..." - he gave a sardonic chuckle, however, it was more playful, than before - "...eternal incarceration."

A short silence followed, allowing Loki's words to percolate.

"Well..." - a mischievous smile dancing upon the pale, pink lips of the trickster - "...might as well make the most of it. Captain?"

Steve eyed him suspiciously, skeptical of the God's "happy" facade:

"What?"

"Be a darling and pour us a scotch?"

The God winked, cheekily, as he began to shuffle in return to his initial perch at the bar. He continued, voice low and - to the shock of both Thor and Steve - slightly... seductive:

"This is, in fact, my final day of... freedom..." - he scorned his own poor word choice - "...and I intend to enjoy it."

He leaned forward - from his reclaimed bar stool - and trapped the Captain within his cold and steely stare: it was murderous. He spoke with a tone that was black and ominous:

"Listen, mortal: I wish to heavily inebriate myself into the abyss, I wish to drown my sorrows until I cannot walk, speak or even breathe and I wish you and my dear brother to only this one last luxury,
before I'm left to rot in a rancid dungeon. I am not overly fond of the humiliation Asgard holds for me; therefore, I wish to... alter my perceptions via various alcoholic beverages, in order to... lighten the ordeal. That must happen, Captain. That is an order and you are a loyal soldier; are you not?"

He pushed the abandoned glass towards a horrified-looking Steve and snapped into a mask of elegant - yet, unsettling - politeness:

"Now... I'll have another drink, if you don't mind."