Then I do not see the point. I can acknowledge what I've done, but I will not fake or scrape for forgiveness. So I ask you again. What is it you want? Otherwise, go pontificate at yourself in the mirror.

[ Of course, again, the conversation turns to Thor. As if everything Loki does has to do with Thor. He hates it because it has the stench of a truth Loki cannot fully escape, even with Asgard's dust behind him. The simmer of frustration is in his eyes, bright as a star. While Thor is more boisterous, he is steady as a hammer. Loki's passions are sudden, dangerous sparks that makes one's head spin, drawing them in. He moves closer, his form wavering in the ozone. Loki may not have the kind of power Thor has, but his divine presence still holds weight, charging the very air. ]

You have some nerve, Stark, to speak of me and my brother. As if you didn't see for yourself when you traipsed into my head. As if you do not know.