At the table, Loki selected a small, round cake sweetened with sugared violets and passed it to her on a napkin. They were one of Loki's first favorite foods when he'd reached the Capitol: the general plainness and understated sweetness had been a good transition. Even when you came from a rich District and a family of Victors, the luxury of the Capitol was a whole different level, and he hadn't had much time to learn to blend. Food, he'd quickly learned, was an important way of bonding -- it was terribly gauche to eat peasant food, after all -- and these little cakes had been quietly instrumental in helping him make some of his earliest connections.
He laughed appreciatively (genuinely, even), at Wanda's opinion of Stark. It was no surprise that she'd have negative feelings toward him, given all he represented, but he was petty enough to believe that Stark deserved her ill will more than he did, even though Loki himself had had a much bigger hand in her current misery. "He certainly is. Clever girl." He smiled at her briefly, but his eyes were tugged back toward Stark as the bastard spilled a drink all over Thor. His eyes narrowed a little, defensive, and he took one step away from the food table, keeping his eyes on his brother. It was the kind of instinctive, protective motion that it didn't even occur to Loki that Wanda might recognize.
"A few," he said, distracted now. "We don't run in the same circles too often, as many don't stay in the Capitol. But that one," he nodded toward the shock of blond hair, a little smile pricking on Loki's lips as he watched Thor take Stark's drink. "That's Thor." His voice softened then, and suddenly his tone sounded much less put on, less dressed up. A flash of the real human being beneath the contrived, showy exterior. "He's my brother."
In ordinary circumstances, Loki didn't try to distance himself from Thor, but after so many years of living in his shadow, it was nice to be known in his own right, rather than in relationship to his much more well-known sibling. But the words had fled from his mouth before he could think better of them, and for once in the whole conversation, it wasn't a manipulation. Just the truth.