"Even the strongest of us is at a disadvantage around sentient objects. They do not pause for hunger or thirst. They do not weary. They'll wear you down, like water wears holes in rock." The way he says that makes it sound like personal experience.

He hums softly, gaze hovering around Solas' knee level for a moment. Not really looking at him, but perhaps through him, as he turns the possibilities over in his mind. Truth be told, Loki is feeling some reluctant sympathy for Cordelia, after seeing her so ill, previously. No amount of money or any other kind of wealth would convince him to let her have one of his memories, but he wasn't too shy to stitch himself into the tapestry of this world.

"In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose," he says, snapping out of the reverie to follow. "I suppose we can debate whether to turn these things over or not, later."

And fight it out if they disagree, perhaps. Loki doesn't relish that idea, but he'll do it, if he must.