She was very politely trying to tell him that there was madness ahead, and he looked at her for a moment, because while he had been made aware of that, through Thor, he hadn't truly considered it. But to have a second voice add to that meant it was something he had to take into account. Of course, maybe everyone was mistaken; genius, after all, could often be mistaken for insanity. But genius and insanity could often exist along and feed of of one another, as well.

"Well, I'm glad you're not about to pander to my male vanity and give me a long and exhaustive account of how you will wait for me here, pining away in the halls," he said, teasingly. "As for your questioning, maybe that's the point of the hotel. It forces one to consider life and all that comes with it. Perhaps that is why it revealed itself to you when it did."

While they were no longer touching, really, they were still close; they had canted themselves towards one another during their discourse, and he noticed now that he was close enough to smell what had to be a mixture of her skin, whatever she washed her hair with, and just the faintest tint of sweat. Her eyelashes were not just dark and smudged, as they appeared at a respectful distance, but an artful array of lashes. He was reminded, suddenly, of something she had said, which he had ignored at the moment in favour of everything else.

"Do you really think I have a pretty face?" he asked, teasingly, with a sly grin.