Loki immediately (well, almost immediately) jerked away, overestimating the force required and almost pitching himself off the bed. A slightly undignified scramble kept him balanced, which was fine. Better. Something.

If he let himself be touched or heavens forbid held, he'd have to weep, or something equally as bad. Loki (Odinson) was ice, spite, and sharp edges. Tears had no place. "It will be," he managed despite tear ducts that didn't seem to understand about ice, spite, and sharp edges, "if you give me a minute."