Wanda accepted the ridiculously fanciful little cake with a slight smile, feeling oddly clumsy as she carefully balanced it in one hand, her drink in the other. Dinners at home in District 3 had been purely utilitarian affairs. Their father hadn't been able to tear himself away from his tinkering long enough to cook, and neither Wanda nor her brother had anyone else to learn from. Meals mostly consisted of chunks of bread and cheese, eaten over glaring electronic displays, discussions of voltages in place of familial conversations. She was as likely to have a screwdriver in her hand as a fork.
Wanda tried, and mostly succeeded, to quash an irrational twinge of pleasure at his laugh. The idea that someone, anyone, at this bloated mess of a party could share her poor opinion of Tony Stark was satisfying. And even aside from that, she had never been admired for her sense of humor. That was all Pietro. Always Pietro.
Stark hadn't orchestrated her brother's death exactly, but he seemed to her to be Stane's puppet through and through, building nasty little toys to keep the districts toeing the line in terror. It was despicable, and more than enough to condemn him in Wanda's mind. Attempting to take a ladylike bite of the cake, she watched Loki as she chewed thoughtfully, eyes never missing a beat. She took in his sudden move away from the table with vague confusion; she could tell he was distracted, but couldn't puzzle out the cause. And then he told her.
His brother. The words rattled loudly around Wanda's mind like metal screws suddenly dropped from a great height. There was no mistaking the warmth in his voice, the affectionate smile on his face. He had had a brother in the Games! In some small way, he had gone through what she had, only at a distance and with the outcome she had wished so desperately for Pietro. It was currently hard for Wanda to consider anyone else's suffering; Pietro's death had ripped through her, leaving an endless black void in its wake that threatened to suck in all of her kinder, gentler qualities. But she had enough lingering compassion to imagine what it would be like to watch her brother in peril and not be right there beside him, sharing it. That was the thing she dreaded most in the few tense minutes at the Reaping after Pietro's name was called and before her own was announced.
Actual sympathy softened her features and she took a step nearer, closing the distance he had just created. "Your brother! I had no idea... I know you said you're not from the Capitol originally, but I just assumed..." she trailed off, realizing that she was in danger of losing focus. Sentimentality was strictly off limits to her now, everything that didn't aid her quest was. She shook her head mutely, as if to dispel her mood, abruptly inspecting the cake's delicate floral decoration with sudden keen interest.