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Some would say otherwise. [Not that Coulson had an opinion on that of his own. Not at all.]

[ His lips purse into a hard line, staring up at Coulson-- the fact that he had to stare up at anyone was infuriating enough as it was-- from his position at the Avenger's kitchen table. Sandwich in one hand and a juice box Tony had given him-- mocking him, blatantly-- smashed off to the side. ]

Some would be idiots.

[Coulson moved about getting a sandwich and drink for himself before taking a seat across from the child god. He raised an eyebrow at the juice box but didn't say anything about it. Tony did have a biting sense of humor at the best of times.]

Some would find it a rather poetic kind of justice; for you to be reduced to a child as though you needed to learn the lessons of one.

(AWWWWWW :3)

( Hii :3 )

(He may or may not be amused. Slightly fascinated. How do Gods even work) So.

[ He didn't appreciate the condescending flavor of his words; no matter how coolly the "Son of Coul" managed to utter them, as if it were some sort of casual conversation. Taking a bite of his sandwich he glowered across the table-- an effect not quite managed on the round cheeks still puffed with a bit of baby fat and the fact the table came up to his chest. ]

Just because I am small does not mean you can speak to me like a child.

[ Lifting his head one eyebrow slowly goes up-- an expression very common on his face at an older age, though it lacks the fierceness he usually possessed. ]

I require sustenance.

(Hold on, he's just covering his mouth. HE IS SO SORRY. But this is just so amusing. He wonders is babby Loki could still throw him out a window. He doesn't really want to know.)

Right. Food. What do you want?

This is not a joking matter! [ He is tiny! TINY! Though he supposes some part of him should be glad to be alive and not trapped with Hel or otherwise-- he's not that grateful. He can't even reach many of the shelves in the S.H.E.I.L.D. kitchen. ]

I have been told you have no wild boar, so anything customary to Midgardians will have to do.

(HE IS TINY. And it's cute. He feels like patting him on the head or something like that. BUT HE DOESN'T) Right. Of course. I'd probably pissed too if I turned into a kid, too.

...of course we have wild boar. Who told you we didn't? (Clearly someone who didn't have any ~taste. He's had it a few times. It's not bad. And so he has his phone out and his tapping away on it. Hold on, Loki.) Henry's End is close and have it in now. Ragout of Wild Boar with a truffle polenta.

I was already the more mature one to begin with. Now what shall I do?
[This didn't usually happen when she revived people, her father would be the exception.]

[ He pauses for a moment, about to quip about who had told him such nonsense-- a operative of Fury's, no doubt, who still seemed worried enough about being in his presence. This, of course, can't be said for Tony who still manages to look amused; but Loki will neglect his anger in favor of food that was not some sort of peanut and jam sandwich. ]

It's not how I wanted things to end, at the very least. [ He murmurs irritably, tugging at the collar of his shirt. ]

What shall you do? Has this brought you any true trouble? [ He snaps, irritated, he has no desire to be so small again. It was tasking enough when things went well; but now? Now he would nary raise to Thor's hip-- how would one accomplish anything like that? ]

Fix it.

(How could he not be amused? It's hard work for him not to just double over into a laughing heap on the floor. So let him grin. It's all he's got. And he's being good. There's no cheek pinching or head patting, so that's positive, right?)

I don't think anyone did. Or planned on it. They're rushing around trying to figure out what exactly happened. They wanted you back in your...normal state, after all. (And he had gotten the short straw and put on baby sitter duty first. Might as well have been, too. They'd sort everything out, and when it got to the really complicated stuff he would help.) You okay?

[ Pinching his cheek might not fair well for your knees, Stark. [

I'm sure they did. [ He was far more powerful, normally, sure-- but he also knew that made him more of a threat. Regardless he's already drifting toward Tony's workbench; beinning to haphazardly pluck things up to look at them. ]

I will cope.

[She should have left him dead. So much for her trying to be helpful.] Remember, only I can wield Niflheim's magic over the dead; sometimes it bends to my will and other times it has a mind of its own. At least you're alive, and with an even longer lifespan ahead of you.

I will see what I can do nonetheless. [She softens a little. Hel cannot help speaking to him as a little brother, rather than a father. At least she felt more inclined to assist him like this, she was generally good with children.]

There is a little.

Spare me the puns, will you?

You'll forgive me; I'd forgotten I was ever this small.

It's not something I'm exceptionally fond of. [ He crosses his arms, a stubborn sort of set to his jaw, though the look overall is rather unimpressive. ]

[He surveys his other self critically.]

It will have it's advantages.

[ Tipping his head back he returns the look, satisfied with the fact from his current height at least he looks quite tall. ]

I am not sure if they outweigh the disadvantages...

I take it you have no more power than we did when we were this young?

No, more knowledge, but most of what I know I cannot use. [ He purses his lips in irritation, thin brows drawn in before a sigh passes his lips. ]