Loki was not entirely certain he could take Emma's word on how 'fine' she was - but, then, he had been specific, asking if she was injured, rather than simply a vague okay, or even hurt - because hurt she clearly was, and okay he very much doubted. He would accept that she was not injured, however, he supposed; it wasn't as if she would be able to hide it, for very long, if she were.
The hand on her shoulder became a tether for a quick spell that removed the blood from her clothing, skin, hair - blood cast away into a space between spaces. It would not do to leave it there, allow it to cause more distress for her when she saw it again. His eyes flicked up and over, to the stained furniture; he would take care of that, but not just yet.
His attention returned to Emma. "I am sorry for your loss." The words likely sounded meaningless - it was a platitude, something everyone said regardless of whether they meant it or not, whether they cared or not. He did, and his words were very specifically tailored for accuracy, word for word - it was not simply a platitude, but a literal interpretation of his sympathy. He was sorry for her loss - not for the death, itself. He could offer no other comfort, given the role he had wished to play in causing exactly this grief.
There were many questions Loki wished to ask her. How this had come to pass, how long she had been here, where the body was - and none of these were things he could ask her. Not now, at least. Perhaps later, perhaps never; it was difficult to be sure about such things. For now, he settled for a quiet "Can I get you anything?"