She wanted to ignore him. She wanted to just focus on the small area of flesh that she had to cut into, so that she could pretend it didn't belong to an actual person. Because it wasn't exactly in her normal, daily routine to slice through skin to make a big enough hole to get an arrowhead out of a butt. But ripping it out would hurt him far more than the swift slices she made with the sharp knife. Thankfully, he kept it very well-honed.
She wanted to ignore him, but she couldn't. Because it was Loki. She knew him, and even if they didn't like one another, it didn't take away the fact that they were acquainted. And that was probably why this was bothering her so much. It was why she wanted to cry on his behalf. She couldn't do that any more than she could ignore him. Neither thing would help him at all, and she was the only one there that could.
“Look, Mister Prissypants,” she said, deliberately goading him as she made the first cut. “I'm not the one with the chip on my shoulder.” There was more blood from the fresh cut, and Sigyn paled slightly, but swiftly moved the blade to the other side to make the second slice. “You're the one that's always got to have something to say.” She was careful not to let the blood get on her hands, it would make it too slippery for her to grab onto the shaft. “Even when somebody is just teasing you a little bit. I'm going to have to go back to my suggestion that you toughen up.”
And then she yanked the remnants of the arrow out of him. It didn't come as easily as she'd hoped, she hadn't cut deep enough to make it an unobstructed path. But Sigyn really couldn’t imagine having cut him more, it was hard enough as it was. So there was a little tearing, but far less than there would have been. After the initial resistance, it slid out through the openings she'd made for it to do just that. She was beyond relieved that had worked, since she hadn't really been all that sure.
He wasn't saying anything back to her, despite her taunting, and that worried Sigyn. As quickly as she could, she cut strips off of the bottom of her inner tunic. It was cleaner. She made a small wad of the material that she pressed against the wound, and once she got the bleeding to stop, she'd use other strips to bind it in place. One hand held the fabric firmly against his upper thigh as she leaned forward to see his expression. “Loki?”
Why wasn't he talking? What was wrong? Her free hand reached up to brush the hair away from his face. She paused when she saw the marks around his mouth, and she muttered, “They really did sew your mouth shut, didn't they.” Then she blinked. “Sew... we should sew this closed so it can heal better. You don't have any thread, do you? Loki? Can you hold this in place so I can check your pack? Loki?”
Her hand went back to his hair, this time stroking gently. “C'mon, you really need to talk to me or I'm going to start getting worried. Please?”