"I was...and I don't know what you're aware of, Fenrir, I don't know what you're aware of, I'm not trying to be insulting, I'm trying to help you," Loki said to him, watching his son get anxious. He could see it in his body language, aching once again to reach out and pet him, feel him to make sure he was real.
"Fenrir, listen to me...I want you to look at me," Loki instructed, holding up the leash. "This is not to bind you, this is for the sake of the mortals, so they do not try to shoot at you. You can break this in one pull, it would snap like nothing. When I walk you home, into my building, it is just so the mortals will see it and leave us alone. I would not bind you, and I would never ask you to do this if it was not important."
He looked into his son's amber eyes, pleading with his own.
"...Fenrir, my son, knowing Tyr's fate, I would still put my arm in your mouth..." he said softly. "Trust your father, for he trusts in you..."