Problem child, indeed!
Loki gave a rather embarrassing crow of indignation at being manhandled in such a manner, that and Stark had managed to grab him where that irritating oaf of an agent Coulson had stabbed him. His long legs flailed about in the air like a rag doll and he had to kick out viciously as the rabble of undead made for his feet. His leather boot connected with the jaw of a particularly haggard looking old man zombie and he winced as he watched some teeth fly from his mouth as he tumbled back to the ground.
"Though pray tell Stark, when have I ever tried to bite you. I've not got a taste for human flesh just yet." he sneered, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
He craned his neck to look behind them, though from this rather uncomfortable vantage all he could see were the ridiculous red and gold armour plates. Loki could hear he vicious cries of their assailants and was silently grateful to Stark though he would never admit it.