Iris and Loki spent five hundred years studying monastically in his chambers before he began to get bored. He flitted from text to text, unable to concentrate on any one thing for more than a day, and snapped at her when she suggested reviewing notes, revising their drafts, or spending more time with a particularly tricky manuscript.
"Iris, I wish to go walking. I need to leave this place before I go mad. Shall we switch bodies so I can wander the city?"
"Why do we not simply ask if we might go walking together? Thor has let us wander the grounds on occasion, perhaps next the city will be permitted."
"No, it will never happen. He will deny my plea."
"You give up before you have even started."
"I am a realist."
"You are already defeated."
"Iris, I am a prisoner in my own home. How much more defeated could I be?"
"A prisoner in the dungeon in your own home, I think, would be more defeated. And that you would be if you were caught sneaking out."
"He did not stop me before, and I can hide myself from Heimdall's gaze."
"It was considered it a test before. Come now, Loki. Be patient and allow me to ask for a walk."
He did not answer, tossing his book aside and leaving disgruntled. Iris went to the door and asked the guards to inquire after an audience with the king.