It would be inaccurate to say that Loki is unaffected by the moon, but he's certainly differently affected. He can taste it, the bitter jealousy, the cold tang in the night air. And why shouldn't the moon be jealous, when the sun shines so bright and warm and beloved by all who drink in its glow? I remember a shadow. Living in the shade of your greatness.

It doesn't actually alter his temperament much, is the thing. He's lived with feeling like this his entire life, a thousand years of slow, quiet, building irritation. So as he walks around town, sees the behavior of others turning petty and mean, he's...pleased. And amused. Amateurs, toddler, fools, can't take a little poison in their minds. It's like watching a tavern full of people get drunk off a single sip of ale.

Theoretically, he should be concerned. He just can't muster it right now, in the light of what may as well be a Trickster's Moon.

Trust Night Sky to catch sight of him and recognize he's as caught up in the haze as anyone else, though. Always so perceptive. If she had come up and asked to hug him, he would have agreed easily enough, but to be caught in an embrace with that preamble you need to trust me is possibly even more effective. He's susceptible to affection, and there's only a moment's hesitation before he hugs back and tucks his chin over her head. "Hello, kjaere. I didn't see you there...I was distracted."

Distracted with schadenfreude. Give him a minute, he'll start to come around.