Thor gets flustered at that, not quite distressed or upset but agitated nonetheless. "I... don't know what you mean." She said she wanted him to talk about it, and he doesn't. But other than ejecting her from his home, there seems to be no avoiding it, this mortal woman stubbornly standing in the way of his path to muddling his mind until the ghosts are quiet for a time.

Norns, his head hurts.

He lets go of his arms to run his fingers through his hair, nervously combing the tangled locks back, only to have them slump onto his shoulders again. "There's no... no reason. It's the illness." Not weakness, not his fault, that's what he's been told and it has been a terrible battle to accept that. To accept that an injury of the mind is no more shameful than the breaking of a limb, no matter how it was received.