Loki & Natasha
That was an understatement, even if Loki knew that Thor was smarter than he often appeared. As much as she called him a bumbling oaf or an idiot, he really wasn't one. It was more the name calling between perpetually bickering siblings, and no doubt tainted by her ever shifting moods. Family often said things they didn't mean in the heat of the moment, but Loki soaked such words up like a sponge and never forgot a trespass. Every name, every comment. Everything.
"Ah. That is the curse of taking up crafting as a trade," she said, nodding a little, "the high expectations of one's patron. At least wonderful weapons are the end result. A finely honed blade is far superior than Midgard's guns or other weapons. It requires more skill as well, and is far less obvious due to the lack of noise. The larger the weapon, the louder it is."
She remembered the clanks and clangs of Mjolnir landing against metal, or the unmistakable sound of blunt trauma and cracking bones. It was hard to forget the smell of ozone and the crackle of lightning in the air. It was one of the most powerful crafted weapons in the universe but, in this universe, Mjolnir was now gone and Thor hadn't mentioned it much. Stormbreaker was superior, certainly, but....
"When we were much younger, Thor made a little bed for Mjolnir," Loki said, almost like speaking a eulogy for a fallen comrade. While throwing Thor under one of Midgard's buses, as only family can do. It was spoken sweetly but tinged with a tiny minuscule of sour. Loki was always jealous of Thor having that hammer, of never being worthy enough to pick it up. "It was ridiculous. I laughed until I couldn't breathe when I found that he put it on a fluffy pillow and tucked it in with a small blanket. It was like a child's doll, only far more destructive."