{edited}
I force myself out of tale of Sleeping Beauty and cast a sideways glance at the little clock on my nightstand. Forty-five minutes seem to have passed in the span of a second.
Somewhat reluctantly, I get up from my comfortable position and open a drawer of my small vanity. Inside, the tiny shears shine just as much as they did when I bought them. I run my fingers along the delicate designs as I make my way down the hall, grabbing a cup of water and a cloth before I reach my destination.
Raising my knuckles in the air, I give the door a few sharp knocks. "Loki?" I call, "If you're decent knock twice."
As I wait for a response, I hear a bit of shuffling behind the door.
Shortly, I hear two quick raps on what I assume is the headboard of the bed.
Suddenly feeling quite nervous, I take a reassuring breath and push open the door. He's sitting on his bed rubbing a wash rag gingerly over the painful looking stitches. I notice he had changed into a pair of John's old dress pants, but still dons the same shirt he arrived in.
I mentally slap myself when I remember the obstruction of his shackles.
He does not look at me, even when I move to where I'm standing right in front of him.
"Hey, Loki?" I say timidly.
Nothing.
"....Loki?" I ask a little louder.
Not even a glance.
I chuckle a little as he blocks me out. He's going to learn very quickly that messing around is not a good idea.
I clear my throat, "I can see you're busy. I was going to do you a favor but if you're going to ignore me regardless then I suppose there's no point," I pause, snipping the scissors in my hand for emphasis. At the sound, his head snaps up and he looks at me incredulously.
I smirk at the god and begin to make my way back out of his room, "I'll just leave you alone."
The moment I take a step, however, he catches my arm and a muffled, almost strangled noise escapes from his sealed lips. In that instant, as he spins me around to face him, I feel an overwhelming amount of pity for him. I know I can not show it. He doesn't want pity. I wouldn't either.
Instead, I roll my eyes and meet his, "It's gonna be awfully boring if I'm stuck with you for any amount of time and you can't say anything-" I break off, remembering something, "Loki, would you kindly let go of my arm?"
At the request, he drops my elbow, his brow furrowing as I continue, "There's a phrase here on Earth. 'Silence is Golden.' Well, let me tell you that I've been here long enough to know that's not necessarily true." I grin at the confused Loki, "Something tells me you agree."
I gesture back to the bed, "So is there any way you want to do this? Sitting down, laying down, standing, whatever makes it easier." I look at him expectantly.
His head tilts in a what-are-you-talking-about kind of way and I realize I should clarify.
"Oh! Stitches. Sorry."
With a slight shake of the head, he sits down on the side of the bed, gesturing to the spot next to him. I sit down, and he turns to face me. Reaching for the cup, I dampen the rag and begin to try and soften the blood that had crusted around the thread. When it is clear that I have done what I can in that area, I reach for the scissors.
I cup his chin in my free hand to keep his head steady and begin to work the tiny shears through the tight stitching between his lips. As I cut the last thread, Loki tries to move his jaw.
"Not yet. I'm sure it's gotta feel great to be free of it and all, but I still have to get the thread out of there. I'm sorry. Just a little longer."
He nods a little.
"Deep breath. This is gonna hurt."
He rolls his eyes at me, imitating my actions earlier.
I glare at him for a split second before I start the painstaking process of removing the thread, wincing when he does, but not apologizing.
Finally, I pull out the last thread and Loki lets out an audible sigh of relief.
With nothing left to do, I begin to feel a little uncomfortable, "Can you clean up by yourself?"
He takes the rag and water from me.
As he starts to collect the tiny pieces of thread, I remember that this man hasn't eaten in who-knows-when, " Oh! My room is two doors down on the right. Knock when you're ready for something to eat."
He nods at me and I see him glancing around the room, as if he's just now noticing he's inside a living treehouse.
I grin at him, "I hope you like green, Loki. There's a lot of it here."
As I reach for the door, ready to get back to my book, I hear,
"I like green."
I smile in spite of myself.
"I like green too."