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“What in the Nine,” Thor demanded, desperately averting his eyes, “were you doing?”
“We can explain,” Sigyn said frantically as she slid to the floor behind the bed.
“Can we?” Loki sounded delighted. He would.
“What is all this for?”
“Err...” Sigyn hunted for a suitable response – and her clothes. She could find neither.
Loki lounged back, still naked, still grinning. It was probably good he was so amused by all of this and so happy to display himself so, as he didn’t have much choice: he was still tied to the bed.
“Well you see,” he explained in his favourite narrating tone, full of glee and ready to trip over into mockery at any moment, “this here,” he gestured with a jerk of his head, “is a snake –”
“It’s a mead-horn!” Thor refuted, turning round and immediately regretting it, quickly covering his eyes again.
“You’re a god, Thor, stop being so literalistic.” Loki rolled his eyes. “The mead-horn represents a snake, dripping venom down upon me in what would surely be my destruction, were it not for Sigyn’s stalwart protection.”
As though to illustrate this, the mead-horn dropped a globe of wax onto Loki’s chest. He tipped his head back and gasped sinfully. Sigyn – dress finally located but only partially on – rushed over to place a bowl under the mead-horn to catch any more wax.
Loki gave a filthy laugh. Sigyn, not quite hiding a smirk, tapped the bowl against his chest.
“But why?” Thor almost pleaded, still shielding his eyes. “Why all this... stuff?”
Loki looked at Thor with something that might have been pity, had he only been able to get the edge of amusement out of his eyes.
Sigyn shook her head. Not quite low enough not to be heard, she said, “Poor Sif.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thor blustered, reddened face emerging from behind his large hand.
“Nothing,” Sigyn said innocently – Sigyn’s impression of innocent was quite impressive, really – standing just in front of her husband to preserve a modesty that he cared little about but she would rather adhere to at least in broadest terms. (“It’s nothing all of Asgard hasn’t seen in the feasting hall, Sigyn,” he would laugh later.) “Perhaps you’d better be going Thor. As you can see, we’re a little tied up right now.”
Loki cackled uproariously. If there was one thing he liked more than a bad joke, it was a bad dirty joke.
“Err... right yes... I’ll... when you’re free... err. Right. Goodbye, Loki.”
When he left, Loki announced, “He is definitely interested. I can tell.”
“Well tough luck for him,” Sigyn replied. “I’m the one with the bowl.”
“I love it when you get jealous.”
Sigyn gave him a look. She said nothing at all, but Loki shivered and grinned and said, as though in reply to her, “Is that a promise?”