"Perhaps you should have a seat, then." Loki sounds only vaguely concerned, but real worry lurks in the back of his eyes. He's perfectly aware of the distance, and for her to have run all that way - agent-in-training or no, it was still a sizable jog, and Darcy is only human. ...Mostly, anyway.

Steve's vague mumblings are dismissed out of hand until he pulls himself up; Loki glances at his efforts, barely more than the time it takes to blink, and assesses him in about as much time.

"If you're that terribly concerned for your friend's health, perhaps you'd best see to him. Unless you'd prefer to call in for your... 'Healers'." The amount of disdain with that last word is more than evident. Compared to Eir's ministrations, the medical practices on Midgard are practically barbaric. "His wound was much less dire when I first stabbed him," he says in a tone that says just how much this isn't his fault, "but he insisted on thrashing about. Careless."