“You, sleep?” she teases. “I didn’t know you did. Maybe you can coax Loki to share the bed with the glow. I can’t sleep with that much light. Some nights,” she pokes at the arc reactor, faint under his shirt, “even this is too much.”
“I do sometimes,” he replies, feigning defensiveness. “You woke me up the other day, remember? Someone’s gotta be asleep to wake them up.” The entire time he speaks, he’s also distracted by the way the light shifts on the walls whenever he moves. “I look like I’m radioactive.”
“You’re not radioactive,” she says dryly. “Sparkly, though. Very sparkly.”
“I’m not sparkly,” he insists, remarkably unperturbed by the situation. He wasn’t going to go running around in public like this, but worse things had happened. “Shiny, yes, but no sparkly.”
Summer muses, “I wonder if I have any backless rhinestones? You could be sparkly then.”