"Watch your eyes," Sigyn said before she turned to switch on the lights. Loki flinched a second and held up his hand to block the light, but quickly adjusted.

"You can follow me across into your room. I've laid out some clothes for you."

Loki hated himself for stumbling somewhat as he walked to the other room, astonished that the bathroom wasn't inside the main bed chambers like his had been. The room he followed her into was small, almost the size of his change room in the palace armory. There still were the necessities; a bed, a closet, some decorative furniture, and clothes. Coincidentally, the clothes laid out for him were the color green, and he didn't even attempt to hide his scoff.

"So, these are your clothes for tonight. Comfy sleeping trousers, which I am hoping, you can put on by yourself. And here's a ..."' Sigyn went on to introducing almost every other garment on the bed, and left the room to let him put on his pajamas, but waited outside in case he needed assistance. Although he was now healing much faster, the alien prince did have some trouble putting on the bottoms, but he managed to get them on. He grunted loudly as he discovered that the thin green shirt was the type without buttons, which meant he had to get it on with more movements of his arms and head. Loki first put his arms in through and swore as he lifted them above his head to pull it over. Closing his eyes, he lowered his arms and neck and put in his head, and unexpectedly, he felt small, warm hands at the hems. Sigyn had come in he knew not when, and was helping him put on the green t-shirt. As his head finally poked through, Loki stood there without a word, just staring at her. Apparently, Sigyn did the same; she kept her grey eyes locked with his greens as her hands held on to his naked biceps.

Sigyn had heard his growls of pain from outside the door and entered just when he was attempting to put on the shirt; his long, bruised back facing her. He was pushing his head through when she went over and had helped him put it on. Right now, she found herself staring into him as she held his arms. The twitch in Loki's muscles and the spreading cold snapped her out and she stepped back, almost about to fall on the bed. It was he now who faced her back as Sigyn picked up the green wool sweater/throw on from the bed. She turned and stood next to Loki, feeling herself short in his presence.

"I'll help you put this on, you're already getting cold," she said loudly as she opened the sweater to his quiet nod of agreement. She went behind him to the other side as his head followed her movements, and she drew it up and set it on his shoulders, returning to his front as she adjusted the sweater to set it right on him, as he looked on at her, silent.

Loki had wanted to say something. He had had many servants and his own powers help him get dressed at any situation, well or ill. But here he was now, involuntarily relying on her. If it had been any other person, he would have done more to them than just yell, but as she took control of his clothes, he stood there limp, feeling useless. A strange feeling crept up on him, as if he should repay her for her services, by words at the least, but he was paralyzed. Something about her had enough power to paralyze him, one of the most experienced "wizards" he knew.

"Now that you're dressed, Loki, you can come down to dinner with me," Sigyn said over her shoulder as she walked out, Loki following behind.

She had expedient wooden furniture all around the house. Not in the best shape, but they were fine. The couch he had slept on was cream colored leather, stuffed firm and comfortable, and had a thin black machine box in front of it across the center table, similar to the screens he had seen at the place of those "agents", SHIELD as they called it. The dinner table he sat himself at was small, round and white, with only four small wooden chairs around it. Much different than the table at court, that could seat the entire army if they so had chosen to allow it.

"Have you ever had subs before?" Sigyn asked, taking out a bag of oblong dinner rolls from a cupboard. The blank look on his face made her chuckle, but one eye raised look from him was enough to shut her up.

"If you're feeling up for it, you can come and make your own sandwich." She heard him stand up with some struggle, but soon he was standing next to her. He was a couple heads taller; she was 5'11", and if she had to guess, he was around 6'2". Whenever he had stood by her, she felt him standing too close, as she did now, and moved away to fetch the other supplies.

"The rolls look like a submarine, that's where they get their name." Sigyn handed him his bun and showed him how to pry it open, his was messier than hers. "I only have steak, that's what I usually have. Then you put on..." as she had done with the clothes, Sigyn introduced every topping that went on the sandwich, but when she brought out the tomatoes, Loki made a disgusted grunt in his throat, which made his teacher giggle.

"Not a fan of tomatoes I see?"

Loki scrunched his nose as he replied.

"They're squishy and squirmy and so disorganized. And I trust nothing in my mouth that would feel as if it were moving on its own free will."

This time Sigyn laughed out loud.

"Have there been many attempts on your life through poisoned food?"

Loki opened his mouth to talk, but his brows knotted and he shut himself up, keeping her from pressing the issue further.

"You've been asking a whole lot of questions about me, care if we switch roles?"

"Seems fine to me," Sigyn responded, taking both their sandwiches to the small square machine that radiated heat, and she put them in it to toast them. "But you have been dodgy, so be ready to expect the same from me."

"Hmm, very suspicious," Loki teased.

"Yes, yes. Because I'm the stranger guest in someone's home."

He chuckled, feeling the wind gusting out of his nose as they waited for their dinner to warm up. He was going to have fun now, hoping to regain his control over whatever situation he was in. And he definitely did not like this weakening feeling inside that had nothing to do with the recent physical wounds on his body.