He had not pulled away completely and so he was still tempted to kiss her. Instead he leaned his face into her hand, her palm rough from countless hours of sword-fighting. He should probably leave. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or irritated by this development, if he should understand it as a natural movement into his future or an aberration in the timeline. Surely if he had been meant for Sif, this would have happened by now. Or would it have?

As usual, his thoughts were loud and complicated and cluttered, weaving in and out of each other. It was easy, then, to let them turn into a background din. "You seem speechless," he said, idly. At the moment, he could think of doing nothing beyond trying to diffuse what was, frankly, a bit of tension. It was uncertainty that hung over them, a chaotic element that Loki normally enjoyed. Right then, though, it was simply another obstacle between them. "It's very becoming."