"Hey," Sitwell demanded, getting just about fed up with this lack of respectable recognition. With Jan's help, he was quickly free of the easily snapped (and chewed) vines, but he still fought to be out of her grasp, not affectionate of Loki's approach and with clear intent to put an end to it. He didn't make for a particularly threatening figure, adjusting his blanket around his head and putting his shoulder to the direction of the sun where he had winced back from the sting of it, making him limp awkwardly in Loki's general direction with a trail of cotton candy fluff drifting off behind him.
"You are under arrest," he still announced with unwarranted confidence. "Further aggression will not be tolerated." Which was true about ten minutes ago, but the man deserved to be informed. Sitwell stopped his commanding shuffle half way between Loki and Jan, squinting out at the aggressor with a look that was supposed to say, I dare you, but Sitwell wasn't sure he hit the mark.