There's a flare of something, anger? No, not as intense as anger. Indignation? Frustration, perhaps. Loki is not fine, he's not fine now, and it's hard to see him being fine in the future if all of that happened to him. Happened to him in the real, waking world. He thinks, briefly, of his bedroom, of spreading red. Blinks it away.

Loki's hand is lovingly petting him.

Clint's relationship with Loki is fraught and confused and an exercise in polarity. This is not a surprise. Attraction and repulsion in equal measure. The touch makes him want to shiver and lean into it while at the very same time want to crawl directly out of his skin and jump out a window. The affection and kindness and softness and familiarity feels nice. But it's too soft, too familiar, too kind.

He jerks, dislodging the cat, turning sharply in his seat to snatch Loki's wrist tightly. His heart is lodged directly in his throat, pounding away.