"Not wasting any time." He flips to the next page before setting the book, cover-spread, down beside him, as not to lose his place. His room is decorated sparsely, mostly with a few knick-knacks here and there. There's a piles of books in a few places, near his bed stand and on the desk. Some are bookmarked with anything that he could manage, including bits of parchment with scribbled runes. There's an eclectic mix of jars, herbs, inks, and stones spread where ever there's an open space. His armor is set on the chair, and his diadem beside it.

Loki swings his legs over the side of the bed, stretching his arms briefly, voice taunt. "I take it you're here for something." He puts his hands on his hips.

"Go on, spill."

What can't the Mighty Thor do himself?