Loki set down the pen, using it to mark his spot in the notebook as he flipped it closed. "And how was Sif?" he asked, casually. Loki was not a possessive person - he desired things, much like anyone else, but due to that desire he saw sometimes the fruitlessness in actually attaining it. Additionally, he'd rarely, if ever, needed to truly covet anything - when it came to things he had found wanting in his life, it had always been symbolic and psychological, rather than physical. All of that being said he was not possessive of Ruby, or thought of her as his; he did, however, understand that in the hotel he had begun to build something, a network almost, free of the influence of his heritage. Those roots were young, easy to tear up. He could not help but think of Sif as a particularly vicious gardener, if she thought it was, perhaps, a weed. "When last I saw her in the bar she was attempting to ply her newfound charms on unsuspecting women. I hope you did not find yourself too much on the receiving end of such natterings."
He relaxed back against the bench, meeting Ruby look for look. At her continued concern and her offer of help, he flashed her a toothy grin that was meant to be appreciative rather than mocking. "Thank you," he said. "I will do that. You do favour quite a lot of red, though, and I must admit it isn't really my colour. If my brother finds himself in similar circumstances, however, I'll be sure to send him your way."
Loki hadn't been up for talking to anyone - it seemed like his mood swings were, to him, getting worse - but it was nice of Ruby to have tried to check on him. Certainly no one else had as far as he had been aware, not even Fiona (though that, admittedly, did worry him slightly; whenever she disappeared he considered it a grim sign). "I was out," he said, which was a half lie. "Sorting out my wardrobe, and such things. Being a woman suits me, but I say that now. I'm hoping I will change back before I discover whether or not this body proves its, ah, fertility. But in that case," and here he placed a hand just below his throat, in a distinctly feminine gesture, "I will run crying to my mother. I doubt I will make a very good bleeder."
no subject
He relaxed back against the bench, meeting Ruby look for look. At her continued concern and her offer of help, he flashed her a toothy grin that was meant to be appreciative rather than mocking. "Thank you," he said. "I will do that. You do favour quite a lot of red, though, and I must admit it isn't really my colour. If my brother finds himself in similar circumstances, however, I'll be sure to send him your way."
Loki hadn't been up for talking to anyone - it seemed like his mood swings were, to him, getting worse - but it was nice of Ruby to have tried to check on him. Certainly no one else had as far as he had been aware, not even Fiona (though that, admittedly, did worry him slightly; whenever she disappeared he considered it a grim sign). "I was out," he said, which was a half lie. "Sorting out my wardrobe, and such things. Being a woman suits me, but I say that now. I'm hoping I will change back before I discover whether or not this body proves its, ah, fertility. But in that case," and here he placed a hand just below his throat, in a distinctly feminine gesture, "I will run crying to my mother. I doubt I will make a very good bleeder."