Even though she didn't show it to him, Loki was no stranger to Wanda's disgust. People from the Outer Districts (this, the glossed-over District Two term for the "poorer districts) usually reacted poorly to the Career-district culture of glorifying Victors. It made sense to Loki, at least in some vague, philosophical way, but it had always struck him as rather narrow-minded. Certainly, people in the Upper Districts did have a distinct advantage in the Games given how well-prepared their Tributes often were, but in Loki's opinion, that was a poor reason not to try to understand their Games culture. It was just as valid as the Outer Districts' opinions, even if it was a little less common.
"Older," Loki said. "I was fifteen when he volunteered. He was eighteen." For a moment, Loki was tempted to explain that almost all tributes from the Upper Districts were volunteers, and most waited until they were in their late teens to do it, to give them the best set of skills and advantages possible in the arena. To explain that, in primary and secondary school, Game Tactics and Strategies were a course that each child was required to take each year (Loki's favorite course, by far), and that a culture like that was just different from the one she was used to, where, he assumed, she'd learned engineering and technical skills rather than Game design. He didn't say any of that, however. The culture and politics of his home district weren't her concern, now.
At that moment, a crash from the other side of the room drew Loki's focus back to his brother, a subtle grimace twisting his face as his attention was recaptured by the fight. Already, he was beginning to move, surging fluidly one or two steps in the direction of his brother. It was good that this was happening now, he decided. He'd lingered with her for too long, and he'd have to solve this problem now, distancing himself in one easy motion.
Loki pulled a sleek, black business card from somewhere in his long, draping sleeves. "Deepest apologies, Miss Maximoff," he murmured, his fingers brushing over hers as he slipped it into her hand, careful to keep the uncluttered side with his contact information face-up, so he'd be gone by the time she turned it over. "I'm needed elsewhere. But truly, it was an honor and a pleasure to meet you this night." He offered her a small, brief smile.
And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd that was beginning to form. He didn't look over his shoulder, didn't see her reaction when she'd turn the card over to read the front, the looping, gold letters that said: Loki Odinson. Gamemaker.