"Oh?" Sif demanded, the worry that had tightened her stomach when she saw him turning hot. She was always restless after the Games, more and more each year, the need to do something leaving a sort of violence in her bones. It'd take so little to knock Loki to the ground, it was almost a harder thing not to.
She didn't, but she moved closer, relentless, fast enough that most who knew her would flinch.
"And are we to waltz today?" In the cool light of the gym, Sif's grey clothing looked slick as gun-metal -- each gesture a threat. The way she tilted her head, hair spilling to the side, looked particularly dangerous. "It must be more demanding than I've been lead to believe if it's put your leg in such a state."