She didn't know what she'd expected when she asked him about the sword, but it hadn't been this. Besides the obvious discomfort she had with the idea of wielding a weapon that forced her to be truthful no matter what, she couldn't quite gather why Loki, who'd just waxed poetic about the importance of carrying a weapon in a place as dangerous as this, was willingly handing his over. What was it that he wanted from her, that he was so willing to relinquish control?
She looked up at him, wishing that she possessed the supposedly common ability to read someone's true nature just by looking in their eyes. His expression was kind and open, and it felt genuine, but she'd been deceived before. She couldn't afford to have it happen again. The unusually easy interaction she had with him wasn't enough for her to risk it.
She withdrew her hands, wringing them nervously, a little startled to find that they'd been inching toward the sword without her realizing it. "No, thank you. I'll admit that it's intriguing, but... no thank you."