Have you been following my Instagram? [Dryly. Dry as the winter air.

And then another TSEEEW, TSEEW. The frozen white snaps under the creature's belly, allowing its weight to start sloughing into the salty sea again. Its head lolls.

In the meantime, Tony does have to observe, taking potshots on Loki isn't as easy as it used to be, or it wouldn't if his goal were to specifically upset the Jotun. But it isn't, really. Revenge for Earth would probably be more along the lines of murder? More imprisonment? Something in Thor's hands, and that, it seemed, had expired as well. Instead, he's left to poke back irritably when poked.]

Memories aren't vices, [he points out.] Flashbacks. Nightmares. Whatever you want to call them. Bad stuff happening to you isn't a vice; what you do is the vice.

I'm recommending alcohol over murder. Besides, according to Thor's very fancy Asgardian mead, you'd need three bottles of vodka before you even felt buzzed. Never mind supervillain incontinence.

[The light starts to wane out from under Tony's boots. He comes down to the ice, landing his boots against it. It's thicker where he's at.]

You want to wake him up?

[The dragon, he means. Not supervillain incontinence or associated body parts.]