Chances are unless something extraordinary happens, Loki will not openly revel in the cold and the frost, but neither will he seek to dodge it. Winter is beautiful in its austerity and finespun delicacy. He is not sure his trueform actually matches it, but it's at home there.

His smile spreads a little, and he nods. "I'll admire it."

That's not meant to be diplomacy or kissing-up. "Especially frost flowers."

The softer moment dissolves, though, as he laughs at the idea of someone praying to him for a coat. "I'm not the god of jackets! And I wouldn't extort prayer from my roommates. At least, not Harley; I like her."

"I suppose if someone outside our makeshift household wants me to shop for them I'd take prayer in exchange, but they'd better make it good."