Loki seemed to start to respond to her question about what happened to him, but his voice — as scratchy as gravel on glass, probably from overuse — trailed off. His face registered some sort of surprise by that, she thought, and that surprised her, if she was honest. How could he not be aware of the sound of his own voice. That worried her more than she already had been just by looking at him. She began to tremble harder and now she felt like it wasn't a lie or an excuse, blaming the cold water and the fact that she was dripping puddles out of her clothes and hair onto the tile floor and yet, still, there was some fear in her as she looked back at him and wondered if what Loki looked like now was actually the face of madness.
His question caught her, too, off guard and she hesitated to answer, confused for a moment before remembering that Bruce had suggested that Loki had maybe thought that Bruce was her at some point when they had spoken. Her breath hitched and she held very still because she could very nearly see the cogs turning in his head. Like he was trying to work out what was going on just then; whether she was really actually there and that scared her, too. Lynne was reminded of a wounded animal; she wondered if too sudden a movement might put Loki on a violent attempt at defense.
"She's — I'm right here, sweetie," she replied, swallowing thickly. Lynne lifted one hand away from her side and very slowly held it out toward him. "Look. I'm right here; I'll always be right here," she added softly. "Loki...I know you're in there somewhere," she went on, careful to keep her tone calm and even, "and I'm gonna be right here; I'm gonna wait right here until you're back. Okay? I promise. Because that's what friends do for each other and we're friends...we care about each other. We take care of each other. We have each other's backs," she prompted, hoping to jog his memory and snap him out of the creepy trance he'd taken on before entering the bathroom.