For a moment, a breath in time, Loki had the urge to sweep her off her feet and carry her to her room. He quelled it soon enough, finding such frivolous sentiments to be nothing more than sheer nonsense. Right now, he wanted a nice, good fuck; perhaps later he could throw on his charming facade and woo his wife all over again? She probably needed it, after all this time apart.
The large bed had him quirk his brow, the thought that flit through his head was obvious and quite predictable. Had she had another man here? He would have been able to smell them, he was certain of it, and this room held no other aroma than the delectable scent of his dear wife. Still, he would harass her about it later. As of right now... Well. His brain wasn't completely in charge at the moment, so he could allow it to slide.
Everything in the room was expendable - including Sigyn herself. Loki didn't voice these thoughts, however, and instead let his wife do the walking, giving the room a cursory glance before turning his full attention back to the other.
His eyes were dark, black, and positively burning with want. He watched her for a while, silently studying, soaking in her form, then moved towards the bed, kicked off his shoes, and settled onto it, leaning back against the headboard in a pose that made it appear as if he owned the place.
The next words out of his mouth held the same tone.