Loki might be surprised to find that his question causes a flicker of guilt and shame to flash across Thor's face as he looks away towards the sea. It has been struggle enough to convince himself and accept that the illness that plagues his mind is not a weakness that he should blame himself for. How is he to explain to Loki the depths to which he's struggled to rise from? That this time last year, he'd found it nearly impossible to muster the strength to do anything but sleep on the couch and drink until the nightmares refused to come. That he is a changed man from the impulsive boy that Loki had grown up with, his scars running deeper than the ones on his eye and his arm, and that Eir says that he should not expect a swift, flawless recovery.

This is progress, Thor reminds himself. He is outside, socializing, groomed and wearing clean clothes. What does it matter that he hasn't swung his axe since the day they restored the lost? That will come in time.

"No," he says, not quite meeting Loki's eye, but turned back toward him. "Not for a while, but I was ill for some time." A partial truth, one that leaves out many details, but it's not a lie.