Loki and Tony
This had most emphatically not been Loki's idea. Generally, Gamemakers stayed far away from the construction of these kind of cashgrabs. In Loki's experience, Gamemakers generally saw these things as tacky. Loki knew several of them who thought of themselves as artists, after all, and this kind of monetization was anathema. But the Maximoff Hotel -- and this party -- bore the seal of the President himself, and so what could they do but attend? And besides, Loki had yet to meet the Gamemaker who didn't love a good party.
Still, it was... interesting to see how the architects and decorators had interpreted what Loki considered to be his first great opus. Had he been doing the planning, everything would have been much more subtle, but of course, that wouldn't appeal much to the general citizenry. But it didn't mean that he had to behave that way himself. He was dressed in deep, jungle green, an iridescent fabric that glittered as he moved, and sometimes, when the light caught them just right, pairs of sinister, yellow eyes were visible in the folds of the fabric.
Not that he was wearing it particularly well right now. He was pale, and his stomach was roiling. He leaned heavily against the table, clawing his fingers as they dug into the cloth. Stupid, stupid. "Symmetry," he said, looking at Stark, trying very hard to look as if everything was fine. "It's fearful," he tipped his head back, fighting hard against a wave a nausea. "Fearful symmetry."