Loki relaxed, just a little. He huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know what a right impression would look like then, since you're certainly Thor's favorite friend." There was just a hint of mockery in his tone. Then his eyes widened and he let out a sharp, surprised laugh. "Oh no! You mean to say your father wishes you to... oh my. Like those horrid, boring girls at the feasts that are always preening and cooing like idiotic doves?" He burst out laughing.

"'Oh Thor! Oh Thor! So bright and handsome! So strong!'" He cooed that in a simpering parody of some of those girls. The sad thing was, though, some of them had caught Thor's attention. Mostly the ones that wore their necklines the lowest. It annoyed Loki to no end, though a little part of him had to admit that it was because no girl would be trying to shove her assets under his nose. Not that he would be interested in those idiots, none of them could hold up their end of even a simple conversation. But it would be kind of nice if they tried. "Only promise that you'll not put on scent and hitch your bodice so low as that, because it would look ridiculous and I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face, let alone eat in your presence."

And the thought of Sif even in that position made him feel very strange. Mostly because she'd look utterly stupid and he didn't have the heart to laugh at someone when it was that easy. But also because the thought of her fluttering at Thor just... made him feel sick, and angry, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"Really, though, is your father mad? He looked alright the last time I saw him at a feast, but some madness can be well hidden." His grin slowly went down to something sly again. "And what do you wish of this?"