For Asgard!

The hint of disappointment forming in the back of Sif's mind as Loki clarified that it had not really been about her or knowing her well at all threatened to make her outright angry. She ought not to be disappointed by such a thing - it was stupid and unbecoming and stupider yet. Biting her bottom lip Sif chastised herself for such a reaction, though she attempted not to let it show.

"Right. Of course that's what it was." She replied, attempting not to sound too bitter. Sif was not sure that she was a woman of more elegant tastes or simply more pragmatic than most, and thus not susceptible to the elaborate (yet transparent) way Fandral did things. Not to mention the fact that she had never been the least bit attracted to the man, of course. And while Loki was right in his assumptions as to how to reach her heart, Sif could not come up with firm ways in which to achieve it. "I don't think there are any clear keys to my heart." Sif blurted out, more as a musing than a clear reply to what Loki had said. Now she wondered, and in wondering she was again confronted by how different the men whom she had given her heart - or part of it - to were. With ease she could list honour among the things she treasured, but then Loki wasn't that known for being honourable and yet... This was an exercise in frustration, Sif concluded with an eyeroll and a deep sigh.

The subject had turned a bit lighter again, and Sif found her smile creeping back into her features. It was eerie how conversations about bloodying someone's clothes got her in good spirits, but that was something better left unexamined. "Unlike certain other soldiers I never felt the obligation to go easy on either of Odin's sons. You would learn nothing if I had." She replied with a smirk.