Loki took the glass, eyes still fixed on Evan. He took a brief sip, then set it aside, hardly noticing its contents. He was thinking and making assessments, that much was clear, adjusting his vision of the man before him by inches based on his every reaction. It was good to get an opportunity to meet Evan face to face. It made it much easier to say the sort of things that provided him with data to work with, to finish putting together his incomplete picture of what Evan was, and how best to chip at him if all things went back to the way they'd been before.
"I'm not real?" he asked, with very real surprise. He stepped toward him. "But I stand here before you, in the flesh, real as real can be. Louis is not here. If anyone is unreal, it's him. He exists in your memory, and nowhere else."
Loki didn't stop moving until there was only a short foot of space left between them. As he stood there, the suit dissolved, the illusion fading, replaced by his armor in green and black, though the battle raiments that went over it were absent. He tilted the scepter out. "I could make you care," he said, holding his gaze. "I could make you lick every inch of my skin, if I liked." He smiled, unkindly. "Tell me that power isn't real."