There is no rain in the forecast, yet from outside, there is a low roll of thunder across the horizon. Thor clenches his hands into fists, metal fingers scraping against each other on one side, the other silent save for the rustle of his shirt sleeves. "Don't you think I've tried?"

It comes out harsher than he means, frustration at being interrogated over a glass of something that isn't even real ale, that he doesn't even realize he's admitted to recognizing the problem.

"I can't give it up. I need it."