Loki picked up the crystal and expected illusions to spring from it. They didn't. So all that happened was a small black stone rested in his hand and a god that stared at it blankly. Every since he had picked up the gold dust, he had been cut off from many of his more extraordinary senses. For him, right now, all that lay in his hands was a small crystal.
"I think I prefer words," he said casually and returned the crystal back to the other man.