She steps away, looking down, and Loki lets his hand fall to his side after a beat. Sylvie's contemptuous response, the looking away, the refusal to let him touch her tells him that's not what happens, that he's wrong somehow, but he doesn't understand it. How could it be anything else, why would it be anything else unless...

Unless he thought they should keep the man alive. Find out more information. Plan, strategize, prepare, maybe? He frows to himself, to the image of himself in the chair across from Sylvie.

He-Who-Remains laughs, a sound that grates his nerves and sends a chill down his spine simultaneously, and Loki shakes his head. He is not engaging with this... ghost or spirit or what-have-you. He's talking to Sylvie. He's going to understand this.

"Tell me what happens," he asks her again. "Please, Sylvie."