Sigyn blinked, then deliberately gave him a look as though he was particularly slow. Which, if the stories were even remotely true, was far from the truth. She knew why he'd asked the question; women did not make paint, because painting was a job for workers, male workers. Generally because paint was usually just used to paint things like walls and tables and chairs. That was not was Sigyn used it for, but she couldn't help but tease him for taking the most obvious route. Someone as clever as he was reputed to be should know better.
So, speaking slowly, as though to a child, she replied, “I need it to paint things.”
Then she waited a heartbeat. Then another. All the while, holding the patient face as though she was waiting for the explanation to click in his teeny, tiny mind. But three heartbeats of time was a little too much, and the corner of her mouth twitched upwards as she tried to contain the teasing smile that wanted to come out. Another twitch followed a moment later, and Sigyn gave up and grinned.
Before he could get too angry with her mild taunting, Sigyn turned and bent to look through the supplies she'd brought with her. When she stood again, she had something dangling from her hand. Looped onto a leather thong was a circle of wood that she'd stained a dark color, then painted over with a dark grey paint that had dried almost black. On top of that, with greens, blues, browns and little splashes of red and white, she'd painted a flowery design. Sigyn held it out for Loki to see for himself.
“This is what I do with the paint,” she explained. “Though thus far, I'm the only one that appreciates my skills. Mostly because it's my only skill.”