Piggesnye: "A cuckooflower;" someone who is pretty but not particularly bright.
Loki had known from the very first minute that he'd laid on Thor all those millennia ago that this bright-eyed, blonde-haired god was a few crayons short of a box, if you got his drift. What he had not known was exactly how many crayons short Thor was. If you asked Loki's opinion now, he would fix you with a firm look, and tell you that Thor would be lucky if his crayons could fill a thimble.
"How hard can it be to add numbers to 21?" Loki asks him as he looks over Thor's shoulder. Thor is frowning at the cards in front of him, his mouth moving with silent calculations as Tony waits patiently across the coffee table, a deck of cards at the ready. "My God, if you were playing with real stakes, you would most likely have lost Mjolnir by now," he tells Thor as Thor asks Tony to hit him (this had given the thunder god an endless source of amusement, and for the interest of everyone's well-being, Tony had politely but firmly told Thor that he most certainly could not be the dealer) and pushes the total over by 6. Thor pouts as Tony gathers up the cards.
"There's an idea," Tony says, raising a brow at Loki, who sneers right back; he still hadn't forgotten the Man of Iron's comment about how his helmet was rather reminiscent of some bovine animals. "I'll bet...my Ferrari."
Loki perks up at this, wipes the sneer off his face. "Your good one?" he asks cautiously. "Not the horrible grey one with the dings in its side?"
Tony rolls his eyes and asks Thor if he accepts the bet. Thor does, good naturedly, and tells Tony that he will gladly bet a few dozen golden apples from Idunn's orchards.
A half hour later, Thor has lost practically everything, including the deeds to Asgard's castle (Loki hadn't been aware there were deeds), and finally tells Tony that he will bet the last precious things he has to him: Loki and the family. Tony had graciously told him that if he won the next hand, he would reclaim everything he had bet, plus Tony's good Ferrari to boot.
"Oh, no, most definitely not," Loki snarls; the thought of being lashed into the Man of Iron's servitude was a horrifying thought, and Loki would much rather forego his biweekly facials than that. "You will most definitely not do that," but the two Avengers are already shaking on it, and Loki watches, horrified, as Tony begins to deal the cards with a mischievous glint in his eye, and now Loki is most definitely certain that the deck is somehow stacked.
Well, he thinks to himself, a few sparks of seidr tingling in his fingers, two could play at that game...
"Hit me!" Thor crows, as his first two cards flip over to reveal a 2 and a 9. Tony's are an ace and a nine, and he decides to stay.
Thor's next card is a 7, and any rational person would stop this madness right now, but Thor, for all his dashing good looks, has very little going on behind that thick forehead of his, and it was clear Loki would have to get himself and Modi out of this insane bet. He directs a little glimmer of seidr towards the deck while Tony isn't looking, and smiles in satisfaction as the next card is the three of clubs.
"Hi -" Thor is about to say it, and Tony's eyes are gleaming with greed, before Loki reaches over and clamps his hand over Thor's arm with a grip strong enough to leave bright white marks.
"Look," Loki hisses, "that's 21, 2 and 9 and 7 and 3, you've won, now stop, by the Nine."
Thor looks at his cards for such a long time, his brow furrowed in concentration, that Loki almost begins to wonder if he's given himself an aneurysm thinking about it.
"Oh, for the love of Hela," Loki mutters as he gets up, dusting off his knees, and snatching the keys to Tony's red Ferrari from his limp, shocked hand before storming off to the garage.