[ Loki coughs, wheezing as he forces himself up on a shaky hand, burned skin an angry red which his usually carefree flirtatious self inhabits, now scorched raw. A mortal couldn't sit up with those sorts of burns but he doesn't intend to lie on his back like a weakling — not in front of an Avenger, certainly not one who saved him. ]
Take ... me home. My place. [ He shakes his head a little, wincing. ] No hospitals.
[ Whoever it is that Stephen wants to call, they can wait until Loki isn't looking like Deadpool knocked on his ass. ]
Your hand. [ He twitches his fingers, meaning to touch Stephen's. Through swollen lips, he hisses, ] Guide your portal.
no subject
Take ... me home. My place. [ He shakes his head a little, wincing. ] No hospitals.
[ Whoever it is that Stephen wants to call, they can wait until Loki isn't looking like Deadpool knocked on his ass. ]
Your hand. [ He twitches his fingers, meaning to touch Stephen's. Through swollen lips, he hisses, ] Guide your portal.