"Don't worry. You are." A murder of crows flocked to the skies just out of her field of vision--disturbed by some manner of predator, likely. Thor's offer to hunt replayed in her mind. She'd have to take him up on that. Chicken was acceptable sustenance but she had her limits with it. That, and hides and animal parts made fine offerings, especially when fashioned.

"And decent company. When you so choose." Pleasantly surprising. Her blow to Loki's face was brought about by good-faith competition rather than fury. "I've not yet made a decision about your room. Show me and we'll go from there?"