When prompted, Loki cuddles up to Hob, though he’s still quite careful of his wounds. He can’t help but press his face into his chest, taking comfort from the warmth and smell of him as he tries to keep control and fails.

He can hear the emotion in Hob’s voice and he shifts just enough so he can sit up and look at Hob again, though he stays firmly pressed against him, needing to feel him. “I’m sorry, I really did not want to upset you.” His voice is still soft as he gently wipes at the tears Hob has shed.

His heart freezes a bit when Hob asks about his death. He hadn’t meant to tell him like this, he hadn’t wanted to tell him at all, though he knew he would eventually. But while he was trying to recover and after piling on all this stuff about his past? It is not his finest moment.

“I don’t know, not for sure. I have been trying to find out. When I arrived, I wasn’t sure I had died at all. I thought perhaps I had just passed out, but I have had it confirmed. At least as best as I can confirm anything in this place. I think it might be why this place was able to take me in the first place.” Loki swallows thickly then, casting his eyes down in shame. “I should have told you sooner. No one wants to become attached to a dead man walking, I am sure.”