“White bordeaux,” she answered his question simply, the light, dry white wine being amongst her favorites. She had noticed him move ever so slightly closer, biding a few moments before resting just her fingertips atop his hand. His skin was cold, smooth like marble beneath the pads of her fingers, though she dared not draw too much attention to the touch by making a spectacle of it. The last thing she wanted was for him to pull his hand away at that moment.
His expressions did not tend to give away much in regards to what he was feeling, though as he spoke once more, openly struggling to recall the last time he was happy, his distress was written in his eyes. She bit her lip, feeling a pain in her heart – quite physical, as much as it was a metaphor – at his admission. Despite what many may have said to the contrary, Sigyn firmly believed that Loki deserved to be happy. She did what she could to facilitate such happiness, but there was very little she was truly capable of where healing the wounds that time and circumstance had inflicted upon him was concerned. There were no words from which the situation could benefit and so, she resorted to brushing her thumb over the back of his hand rather than attempting to convey her condolences verbally.
When he agreed to allow her to join in their game, to answer her question as well, Sigyn watched him with great intrigue, the tension from the previous moment passing quickly. It was replaced by a sort of excitement, wondering what tidbit of information he would choose to share with her, thrilled that she, too, had been allowed to play along. Her enthusiasm for the sport of the conversation was only so long lived however, her stomach bottoming out when he spoke the answer to her question.
In love.
Her eyes widened momentarily, her breath stalling in her chest. She was caught somewhere in between wondering who had managed to capture his attention and hoping against all odds that perhaps he was speaking of her. The latter of these possibilities seemed nearly unfathomable, though the former was too maddening to even see through to the conclusion of the thought. She wanted Loki to be happy, but to imagine him finding that happiness in the arms of another was pure torture, the notion setting her heart to flames at its very consideration. To think that perhaps her feelings were not quite as unrequited as she had believed however, filled her with a frenetic excitement that she could barely contain.
Regardless, it was all speculation in her head, aimless conjecture that was of no use to either of them. She hesitated to ask for clarification, frightened beyond measure by what the answer to her question might be, but she saw little way around it.
“In love?” she repeated with an arched brow, her tone vastly more calm and collected than she was on the inside. It was a grand effort on her part, pretending to be nonchalant and at ease despite the bedlam that existed within her mind. “Quite the the little known fact, indeed. May I ask with whom?”
Of course, it was no longer her turn to ask questions, and he was under no obligation to answer, but she found herself hoping against hope that he might overlook such a fact.
