Loki reached a hand out in concern, a reflex gesture, aware that he'd brought attention to something Bakura did not wish to talk about, and wishing to make an apology --

Look at this stammering softhead. Look at him cringing over there. He's too cowardly to step into Madness alone, without even the pride to deny it, yet even he has battle scars from his home. He trains every day, he goes on Missions, and you've never set foot outside the city walls until today. Loki, king of Asgard? That's the best jest I've heard in months!

"I would make a better king than you," he found himself muttering under his breath before he could quite stop himself. Loki had drawn his hand back and looked away, eyes losing their focus.