He's speaking with a god. A god he knows ashamedly little about. The wrong pantheon. The wrong situation. Viatorus stands stock still, vibrating in a silent explosion of energy beneath his skin, until his silence is more pointed than any words.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, his held breath escaping him. "I haven't met a Norse god before. I haven't met any god like this. In the flesh. Not being... hosted. I'm not sure... I didn't know there were..."

A thought springs to mind, glazing his eyes and stopping his words. He bites his lower lip, troubled, as he slowly returns to focus on Loki.

"I know that this might be a nuisance, a-and that we've just only met, b-but I feel it is... somewhat my duty t-to ask a favour of you." Although he looks like he half expects to be struck down by lightning magic for bringing it up at all. "W-Would you meet m-my wife? Someday? I just- She worships the Norse gods. I... I'd say most of what I know, she taught me. If I'd met you and hadn't so much as asked..."

To say he'd feel like a poor husband would be putting it mildly.