He shrugged, slightly, and toasted her with his glass, nearly empty again. Loki's self-awareness had certainly been his curse, at some point, though if that was part of the credit she was speaking of he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

"I believe they find glitter festive," he said, dryly. "Mm, well. A lot of them don't seem to understand that you can create a new beginning at any time. There needn't be a significant change in the calendar in order to start something. Or finish, for that matter. All I can really gather, though, is that after midnight everyone just goes to sleep." He gave her a crooked grin, and shrugged again, feeling loose-limbed, relaxed. Pleasantly drunk. But not too drunk not to appreciate Sif's eloquence.

He glanced down at the glitter with some chagrin, but he wasn't surprised; more like he was distracted by the sudden warmth of her nearing body, the brush of her hand. Yes; he was definitely drunk. "Maybe you're getting it on me," he teased with a straight face. He cast his gaze upward, as if he suspected it might be drifting down, like snow. "Speaking of things starting at midnight," he mused. "I heard there were fireworks. Shall we find a place to sit before then? Or simply get out of the way?"