Thor just laughs in response, despite his precarious position. A harmless brawl with a friend is invigorating, knowing that it isn't real combat, and he's actually enjoying himself in a way that he's missed over the last few years.

Stomping again, eh? Prometheus is smart, but Thor is tenacious. He pushes back, braces his boots against the back of the titan's leg, and wedges his living arm underneath the strap where it meets the edge of the armor. It's a tight squeeze, and not sustainable, but it gives him a greater chance of clinging on like an annoying insect. This time, when Prometheus tries to shake him free, he's not budging.

Armor that leaves flesh exposed seems to Thor like a risky prospect until it comes to matters of trying to scale a large version, where handholds are few. The flaps of Prometheus' pteruges are the next obvious target. Predictable, but with few other options. If Prometheus does not swat at him again, that is what Thor will be aiming for next.