"What is your favorite fruit of the orchard? My family is partial to apples, but..." Loki shrugs the shoulder not nearest to Huaisang, his smile growing in tiny increments with every small contact made between them as they walk. He tilts his head and tries to imagine it, trying to imagine Huaisang amongst a people that are utilitarian and unused to frivolity.

Not that difficult, really. Loki swallows, and gazes toward the sky, before returning his eyes to Huaisang's face.

"Back home, for me, I must confess it is much the same. Not in the sense that they don't like frivolity; there is nothing like an Asgardian parade, let me tell you, and the gold of the palace could rival the sun. But they don't understand the things that interest me. Other people, other places, other types of magic. To them, it is perfect there. What else is there to know?"

It isn't a lie but it feels a little bit like one, if only because it seems so... simplified. Cauterized of the pain that comes from being different, and on a pedestal, and overlooked all simultaneously. At least in other places he is an outsider. He can vanish in a crowd or stand out in a disaster if he so chooses.

"You fight for them. Surely, they are not that embarrassed of their leader?"