He doesn't look at her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, aware that she's reaching out but he doesn't move to take her hand, his own hands fidgeting against each other, a nervous gesture she has seen from him more than once during his darker days. Even with the truth out in the open, it makes him feel exposed, vulnerable, seeking for a way to deflect her attention away from this rot that's been spreading at his core and not finding any.

"You don't understand." How could she? Even Thor does not understand, despite himself. He struggles to put it into words, not sure even to himself what he can say of it. "I tried... just one night. I didn't make it. I need it. Like you need to breathe."

It never used to be that way. Something's changed, and he doesn't know where it all went wrong.

"Loki won't give me any more." It feels like confessing a terrible secret, one that should never see the light of day.