Loki slid down from his bench to sit on his knees beside her, leaning in to touch his forehead to hers. He couldn't speak with the gag still in place, but some things didn't need words - it was a gesture of affection, something he didn't deserve from her but he was too greedy not to want.

Once she took his hand, Loki gently tugged her towards him, gesturing for her to sit with him on the bench - something about the submission displayed in sitting at his feet bothered him, somehow. He watched her intently, listening carefully to all of her words - this prison was better than the alternative, but he couldn't pretend he didn't miss her company terribly.

The mention of the boys made him bow his head again, shame creeping back. He was good with children, but he had never been especially good with his boys - somehow he'd never felt like a father for them to be proud of, certainly not now. He was looking down at the floor again, but he was still listening; he kept stroking her knuckles with his thumb, making sure she knew she still had his attention even if his eyes were elsewhere.