Were he thinking more clearly, Thor might be more inclined to ration his dwindling supply, knowing that it may be some time before he can find a reliable source of more godlike alcohol. But he's not. Once he starts, it's difficult to stop, and one drink leads to another. And another.
He wakes up on his couch the next day, head aching fiercely and a terrible taste in his mouth. He's not quite sure how long he stays like that, sitting still and hoping he does not lose whatever's still in his stomach, before he manages to drag himself to the washroom. The house is in a bit of a state, and there's no sign of the children, which sends a surge of adrenaline through his muzzy brain until he remembers he'd left them with Solvi. Had he told her to keep them overnight? He doesn't remember, everything past leaving the Viper's Pit is a rapidly darkening blur.
A shower is a bit beyond his ability at the moment, but he splashes some water on his face and ties his messy hair back away from his face, and trades his shirt for one with less stains on it, feeling wrong and yet not quite able to get himself to do anything about it. Thor can't quite face breakfast, either, instead pouring himself a glass of water and adding an infusion of mint from the pantry, his heart aching nearly as much as his head. Loki would've made me drink it.
He does not recall texting Amelia, but when the phone buzzes next to where he's half-slumped against the kitchen table, he blinks in surprise at what it says. When did they talk about this? How late is it? It's hard to tell sometimes, when the sun begins rising late and setting early. He's not fit for company, but it seems more important to be as normal as possible so she doesn't worry about him. Head propped up against his metal hand, he slowly pokes out a reply with the other.
Staying in sounds good. See you in an hour?
That has to be enough time, right? He'll drink his water and get his head in order, and everything will be fine.
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He wakes up on his couch the next day, head aching fiercely and a terrible taste in his mouth. He's not quite sure how long he stays like that, sitting still and hoping he does not lose whatever's still in his stomach, before he manages to drag himself to the washroom. The house is in a bit of a state, and there's no sign of the children, which sends a surge of adrenaline through his muzzy brain until he remembers he'd left them with Solvi. Had he told her to keep them overnight? He doesn't remember, everything past leaving the Viper's Pit is a rapidly darkening blur.
A shower is a bit beyond his ability at the moment, but he splashes some water on his face and ties his messy hair back away from his face, and trades his shirt for one with less stains on it, feeling wrong and yet not quite able to get himself to do anything about it. Thor can't quite face breakfast, either, instead pouring himself a glass of water and adding an infusion of mint from the pantry, his heart aching nearly as much as his head. Loki would've made me drink it.
He does not recall texting Amelia, but when the phone buzzes next to where he's half-slumped against the kitchen table, he blinks in surprise at what it says. When did they talk about this? How late is it? It's hard to tell sometimes, when the sun begins rising late and setting early. He's not fit for company, but it seems more important to be as normal as possible so she doesn't worry about him. Head propped up against his metal hand, he slowly pokes out a reply with the other.
Staying in sounds good. See you in an hour?
That has to be enough time, right? He'll drink his water and get his head in order, and everything will be fine.