Loki scoops up another stone and wanders slowly closer, tossing it lightly from hand to hand – much more lightly than he ought to be able, given its size. A wave and a smile; how utterly droll, how very trusting. His own smile isn't quite so courteous. It isn't even warm, something else, something icy and perhaps a little predatory – but that's a lie, a jest. He doesn't really feel like smashing any skulls in today.

Doesn't mean he can't imply, though, with the smile and the slow, steady, constant passing of the stone from hand to hand.

“You can do that all you like,” Loki says once he's within earshot. “The sea won't hear you.”

His head turns, eyes travelling impassively over the landscape before turning back to Galen. “Nor will anyone else, I expect.”