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“So, the whole being a god thing,” Tony asked, gesturing with a glass of scotch “does that mean people prayed to you?”
“Indeed - I have had many supplicants over the centuries,” Loki replied, flashing a smug grin as he sipped from his own glass of Asgardian mead.
“And what about when they asked you for something like bringing a loved one back from the dead?” Loki’s smirk faded away at Tony’s pointed question.
“That is beyond even my powers.” His reply was unexpectedly somber.
“And here I thought you were the Master of Illusions,” Tony scoffed. “You’d work your magic and voila! Said stiff would be back as good as new - at least at first glance.”
“You think me that cruel?”
“Honestly?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “ Sometimes.”
“You cut me to the quick.”
Tony shrugged. “Let’s face it, you’re not exactly known for your compassion.”
Loki nodded his head in acknowledgement. “My father would agree.”
“And your mother?”
A wave of grief washed across Loki’s face and Tony realized he’d gone too far. “I’m…. I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized. “That wasn’t fair.”
“She was always one to overlook my faults and encourage my better nature.”
Tony swallowed hard. “Mine too.”