Loki got his wish; flailing a bit, Sigyn's arms leaned against her work table in an attempt to prop herself up while all of her weight rested on one leg. If Loki wasn't holding her up, she probably would have fallen backwards and hit her head quite hard. He wasn't to be trusted, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. One strap of her sundress had already gone down for the count, leaving a bra strap and a thoroughly mistreated shoulder in plain sight. Little pink marks colored her skin, not enough to leave bruises but a promise-- a threat, really-- to come back and do so.
In this position-- with Loki nudged between her mostly legs-- Sigyn felt she had a right to feel... vulnerable. Part of her was scared that someone would pass by and see them, but a smaller, darker part of her was almost excited-- proud?-- that Loki was here, finally. She was having trouble voicing her weak protests, even for her.
His words meant almost nothing; it was his actions that spoke exactly how much she meant to him.
Sigyn felt brave enough to look up at him, breathless, scared, excited, worried, searching for some sort of an answer. Was she going to get one? Probably-- and in the most direct way possible.