She couldn't tell if he was serious or if he was just babbling, but either way, he was talking rather than looking like he was going to pass out. In that regard, he might be doing better than she was. Every time she had to push the needle through his skin, she could feel her stomach clench up tight, so truthfully, she wasn't really listening to him. Sigyn was concentrating on doing what she was doing as quickly and efficiently as possible.
It was absolutely nothing like sewing clothing. For which, Loki should be very grateful, since she was an abysmal failure at making nice, neat, pretty stitches like the other handmaidens. But she didn't know how well any of them would be handling this situation either. There was a certain resistance to skin that both was and wasn't like sewing leather. She needed to be certain the stitch was set far enough from the torn or cut edge of the wound so that it wouldn't rip out when she tightened and tied it. The best way to make certain of that was to tie each stitch as she went along, which was easier said than done with the thread getting slippery in his blood. Sigyn made slow but steady progress, and tried not to shake. Only a few more to go.
When she was finished, she sat back for a moment to catch her breath and try to think what she was doing next. A sudden inspiration struck her, and she moved back toward Loki's pack. As she did so, she commented, “I am a delicate fucking flower, you know. It's automatic. It comes with having breasts. Did you not see me mincing my way through the woods with teensy, tiny, ladylike steps? Really, Loki, you say it like it's a joke. I'm terribly offended, and may just cry. Because I'm so delicate, you see.”
She'd been rummaging through his pack, hoping against hope that she'd find what she'd been looking for. But at their fight at the cave where they'd been stuck with one another, he'd proven to have all kinds of interesting foodstuffs in his pack, and she was hoping he'd have what she was looking for. No one else likely would, but a man that traveled with a box full of spices from around the world just might. And he did.
With a gleeful exclamation, Sigyn pulled out the small, well-sealed container, and moved back to kneel beside Loki again. “This might be a bit sticky,” she warned, right before she started gently slathering honey over the area she'd just sewn. Once she was finished with that, she could bind it up with more of her skirt, and then they'd see if he could move on it. At least enough to get dressed.
“So,” she said, now that she was just wrapping him up and could pay attention to the conversation, “you don't think anybody will be coming after us? Really? Or are you just saying that to try to make me feel better? Because I'd rather know what's really going to happen. I'd rather know how to plan for what we have to do.”