He sits in contemplative silence, read Loki's balloon. And it wasn't wrong. Hela's sympathy was neither wanted nor rejected, because it had never been about her. What she would become, Loki was certain of that. They were twins, after all, and even if they hadn't been on good terms, he knew her well enough. They were blood. That was more than he could say about himself and Thor.
No, it was entirely about Thor. While Loki knew that in his life he had never once disappointed his brother (until recently, anyway), there had always been a slight resentment. The dreams had grown that resentment into the burning hate that lingered inside him, and it was, really, a terrible place to be in. How could one man stir up so much? Loki wanted nothing more than to see Thor fall from his pedestal and crumble, and yet the thought of Thor not being there was too much to bear. It made his head hurt.
As Thor left the room and Hela stepped near, Loki glanced up. A sly, slow smirk broke across his face at her words. He finished his tea and stood, looking almost bemused and mocking. "Oh, Hela," he spoke to the empty room, "you should know that it was never about Odin. There is only one person Loki wishes to see dead." His bubble popped up with a *TING* as the glass hit the saucer. "And this is why I never bothered to join you for tea."
More loudly, as he wandered by the kitchen, he said, "I'm afraid I feel I've personally stayed my welcome. It's been simply lovely. Thor, I hope you'll join Hela in coming to my show on Halloween. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, dearest brother and sister."