[ when the first part of her word falls short, Loki smiles in smug satisfaction against her skin. when she shifts Loki responds, slipping dark nailed fingers against her leg to keep her from gliding down. ]

I don't get cold. [ a pause, and she rethinks that, her brows knitting at the center pleasantly. ] Well, that's partly a lie, there are places that get cold, even to those of us who have blood of the frost giants. Hel, for instance, where all the dead go.

But it's cold for another reason.

[ there's a light playfulness to her voice despite the talk of the dead, making it sound more enticing to keep the warmth than it would be to be a victim of the cold. ]