Loki wasn't sure if he should be just irritated with her blatant stubborn refusal to listen to any degree of reason or frothingly angry. She had trespassed, had her naked body all wrapped up in his blanket even though he currently had no conscious intention to do anything with that no matter how appealing the idea was, and she was arguing with the fact that he wanted her to leave his house? Was she completely mental. “You. Need. To. Go.” He said slowly, given firm punctuation to each word.
Except she was sitting down. That was never going to help this situation. Fine, he'd just leave the room, then. But when Loki turned around, there was a whole lot more skin looking back at him than he was prepared for. He had two reactions at once. The first was a guttural shout of alarm because even in the cave he didn't really see quite that much in one eyeful and that was before the whole... thing at Holda's, where he brought one hand up to act as a shield between his eyes and the parts of her that the gaping blanket had exposed.
The second, which caused him to start pacing around in the hopes to find her clothes himself at this point and toss them at her so he could leave the room and hope she'd actually listen that time, was deeper down... that baser nature she claimed to have been trying to appeal to as if he were nothing but a beast led around by an innate desire to fornicate with any willing woman at any moment... it was stirring. Loki was far from an animal without control over himself, but there was a point when he would start to give in to the temptation voluntarily presented, and even if he tried to argue against actually wanting to do things in an attempt to protect her, there would be a point when it would be quite obvious that he was lying. Loki was not stupid.
Inexperienced or not... he assumed Sigyn was not that stupid either. Which was why there was a sudden, abrupt change of plans when he realized he had no idea where her clothes were. Where the fuck did she hide them? “Where are your fucking clothes,” he was muttering as he paced about. Keeping his hands up as blinders to any flesh of hers he did not want to peek at, Loki returned to the table, grabbed the candlestick and moved to another part of the room... where he had some clean trousers. If she wasn't going to put clothes on... he would. It would mean a brief blanket drop of his own, but... he was accustomed to dressing quickly on the run.
Unfortunately. It just wasn't something that generally happened under his own roof.