Loki dragged his gaze back to her face, examining her expression minutely for any sign of contempt, anything that didn't match with her words. He wasn't certain what he hoped to see. Because in a way, it would have been easier, if she had chided him or insulted him or told him to grasp at his courage and move forward since he seemed so unmanned he couldn't do it on his own.

He didn't know how to react to sympathy, to the other strange emotions coloring her eyes. Her touch made something twist in his chest; he shuddered, but covered her hand with his to keep it there.

How to answer that question? Everything was the closest thing to the truth, but it seemed so ridiculous and dramatic. Just the thought of it drew on odd sound from him, a laugh but far more painful. His other hand tightened against her back, gathering a fistful of cloth.

"I don't really know," he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not a luxury I can afford."