Everything was happening too quickly, just flowing around him while he tried to catch up. He wasn't used to his mind feeling so slow. Loki found the shape of what they were intending to do, and it was horrifying. In a visceral reaction he curled up more tightly against Thor's side, arms clutched against his stomach, head bowed. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, in the hopes that it would quell the humiliating flow of tears.

The tremors in his shoulders and arms began to worsen again as the sensation of cold started to creep through him. It was a strange counterpoint to the hot pain that filled his head. And below it all, he could hear the low mutter of Mjolnir, though the hammer no longer gnawed at his mind now that Thor was in the room.

He hoped that Sif would return soon. And he hoped that she never returned, because the pain would only become worse.