The joke works and Loki huffs out a soft laugh. “Fine, I suppose I can wait.” What? Like he would be able to not answer a joke with a joke. But still, he does feel a little better. Hob always seems to make him feel better. He doesn’t know how he does it, but he’ll take it.

Loki kicks off his shoes and does something he’s been testing by changing his clothing to something more comfortable (plain black jogging pants and a green t-shirt, Midgardian clothing he’d been trying and find he quite liked) using only his magic. He grins, curious about Hob’s reaction, but doesn’t say anything as he climbs in.

Once in, he wants to press himself up against Hob, hold him or be held, he doesn’t much care which, but he doesn’t know how to ask. “Can I…?” He starts, but shakes his head, a light blush tinting his cheeks. “Never mind. How are you feeling? Really?”