Well, if the road god wanted her knife, who was she to stop him from having it. Idun nearly shrugged in an exaggerated display of nonchalance when he silently asked for her permission, but then he turned the blade on his apple wedge, and every drop of nonchalance was replaced with curiosity. He wasn't an apple god, and that instantly made it that much more intriguing when he began cutting into that apple.
Idun raised her gaze back up to his when he spoke, and she was glad she did once she caught sight of his expression. Eyebrow arched, lips tugged into a broad smile. It was just the sort of thing that could make the heart of a goddess skip a beat or two. Not that that happened to Idun. But she made a note, in case he needed help with his goddess in the future. Tips and advice and such. Her shoulders shook with a burst of mostly-silent laughter, and then she shook the mirth in order to look as solemn as possible. With her, in that moment, after witnessing that grin, it wasn't very solemn at all, but the attempt had to count for something. "Oh trust me, you'll regret saying that. You made it a challenge. What sort of friend would I be if I let your high, high expectations down?" She might've smirked a tiny bit, but there was no solid evidence one way or the other.
The smirk faded into a searching sort of smile, and Idun pressed her lips together to keep them from parting in silent curiosity. He was blushing. His cheeks were red! A friend might've gloated right then, but Idun forgot to be a friend in that moment. She was too busy feeling a lazy shiver building at the base of her spine. The smirk and the laugh helped, but not before she had already committed that sight to a very special corner of her memory. The one where kisses lived, apparently. "You're underestimating the quality of your own voice," Idun countered. She raised one eyebrow and managed to keep her smile playful. As long as she didn't sound like her will was crumbling, as long as she reminded herself of that stupid goddess of his, Idun could pass the compliment off as friendly. Maybe.
As he resumed his cutting, Idun was given the task of keen observation to distract herself. His cheeks were barely pink now, but even that looked good on him. He looked breathless with a flush like that. It made her wonder if he'd looked like that after their kiss on the road. She'd been too breathless to notice if he was as well. Watching him carve into the apple was a welcome distraction. "What kinds of plays would you like to write?" she asked him, glancing up just long enough to see the grin melt into something gentler. Idun sighed quietly before she could catch herself. "And when did you write a song for me?" she added, genuinely puzzled. When indeed.
Distracted from her distraction by the thought of Bragi writing a song for her, Idun didn't realize what he was making until he extended it to her. Her breath came out in one huge exhale and she met his gaze as a tiny chuckle escaped. "Where did you learn to do that?" she asked quietly, taking the butterfly carefully, afraid it might break. A smile took over her expression and Idun had to shake her head to stop from leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "Thank you," she said instead. "This is beautiful."