Loki shook his head. "Still bleeding," he said, after a moment of considering how he wanted to distill that message down. Though without healing, he supposed he would be bleeding for some time to come because that's what wounds in the mouth tended to do. Perhaps if he lay on his side with a towel under his face, that would work well enough. "Messy," as the only comment he could really make to the notion or the reality.

He wasn't certain if he wanted Sif to stay or not. Part of him just heartily wished both her and Thor elsewhere, because their constant worrying just made everything worse, and he'd never been the sort that craved attention when he was wounded or sick. Rather he tended to resent it because it made him feel helpless and more humiliated.

Yet.

The logical part of his mind pointed out that it would probably be best to have someone with him, as a sort of backup plan. And a far less rational part of him simply did not want to be alone, and refused to be budged from that position no matter how childish it seemed.

He sighed quietly, letting his eyes drift shut. "Stay." For a moment he found one of her hands at his waist and gave it a soft squeeze. "Please." It didn't seem right to make this sort of thing seem like a command.