Loki had not wanted to stay in his room, nor had he been particularly keen to seek out company. He had compromised by swapping out his usual garb for Midgardian clothes, which he usually did when he had vague hopes of going somewhat unnoticed about the hotel. Seeing as how he was half-laying in the grass, he had gone for the less dressy options of jeans and t-shirt, which made him feel more slender and exposed than ever and, thus, he wasn't entirely sure he liked. The leather jacket had been too warm as the sun had gone full blast, and it was laying abandoned next to him. As far as experiments went, he would currently consider it a half-success.

Quite unusually he was reading a novel as opposed to something denser, and he had two bottles of white wine, one open and propped up against his knee, the other laying in the grass, which he kept incredibly cold, because he could. In all he had forcibly put himself at ease, hoping that it would calm his spirit some, and it was partially working. He heard footsteps, but he didnt bother to look up until the shadow fell across him.

Looking up to see Sif - a lot more of her than he was used to, in fact - he didn't know if he should be annoyed or relieved. "Oh, thank the Allfather," he said, without preamble. "I really didn't enjoy Unlady Sif. But what in the Nine Realms are you wearing?"