Thor's grip on the glass tightens a little, and he's quick to set it down before he cracks it in his nervousness. Maybe this is something else? Maybe Loki has a problem that has nothing to do with Thor, something that he needs his brother's help with. Deep down, he knows that's not it, not with that look on his face like he's visiting a sick relative. "Whatever it is must be quite the problem," he says with a false laugh, feeling utterly slow in his deflection.

He used to be quicker than this. Quick enough to fool his clever brother, once in a while. But now it's like trying to wade through molasses, his own anxiety bogging down his thoughts and leaving his tongue too muddled to cover for him.