It was good to see him smile -- his real smile -- and Loki's mortification was mollified somewhat at the sight of it. And at the easy opening his brother had left him in the wake of his comment. He swatted his brother's broad shoulder lightly with the back of his free hand. "Or perhaps you shouldn't have imbibed so quickly," he observed, returning Thor's crooked grin with a sly one of his own, the kind that knifed up the side of his face.
It was, perhaps, a dark joke to make, given tonight's circumstances, but Loki made it anyway. Although it was easy for him to be mean-spirited -- as his performance tonight at the party showed -- around Thor, all Loki's jests were friendly, teasing. Part of the easy banter they'd had ever since childhood.
Loki might've relaxed at this, a turn toward easier waters. It was clear that Thor knew Loki wanted to drop it, and as his brother rose and began to pace, Loki shifted uncomfortably, his hand reflexively covering his bad leg against, fingers pressing into its tendons, as if easing its hurt would somehow also ease his brother's.
He turned his face from Thor as his brother threw the closest thing to an accusation toward him that he'd leveled in months. Maybe years. This had always been a sore subject, ever since Loki's very first day, when he'd returned home to deliver the joyous news and their subsequent fight could've shaken the ground all the way in District Five.
"Of course it was a natural outcome."Loki didn't snap, exactly, but his voice was brittle. "Surely, you didn't think they would both be spared."
He was using "natural" in, perhaps, a slightly different way than Thor had, twisting it a little. No, the Gamemakers hadn't killed Pietro specifically, the way they sometimes did, with a well-placed, well-timed trap. But the Final Three were always forced together by some means, and that, yes, that had been engineered. In fact, it was Loki himself who'd thought to trigger the path of luminescent mushrooms that had guided that third tribute, half-delirious and dosed with Tracker Jacker venom, to the spot they'd chosen for the final showdown.
But Loki hadn't known who would emerge victorious from the fight. Certainly, his colleagues had been hoping that the twins would've disposed of their last adversary together, inevitably leading to the most tense and dramatic finale in the Games' history. In a small, sick way, Loki had been glad that it had ended the way it did, one sibling dead and one a Victor. It was still a tragedy, but the very worst kind of tragedy. It was that kind of knowledge that made Thor's first question so much harder to answer.
Loki closed his eyes, a frustrated gesture, but one that belied his trust nevertheless -- he never would have taken his eyes off of any other visitor. "I participate for much the same reason that you do, brother." Loki said quietly. "You think the tributes are the only ones playing the Games?"
He opened his eyes, then, holding his brother's gaze. "You know better than most that they never end. They affect everyone. What can I do but participate?" He set his tea on the coffeetable, his stomach suddenly turning, and rose to face his brother. "Thor. It's what we were raised for. Glory. Honor. You achieved it your way. I... chase it in mine. I know it's not fair. But we are of the Districts." He shook his head. "None of this is fair. Twenty-three children are going to die with or without me. I can no more stop it than you can."