Prometheus pulls his hand back from his chest and looks down at his palm. The burn marks are an angry red, but thankfully not bleeding or penetrating below the surface of his skin. They form the tell tale pattern of a lightning burn, an almost tree-like shape that spreads down to just past his wrist. He flexes his fingers, wincing at the sting, but otherwise uninjured.

"I'm fine... it'll heal up in a few minutes, at most." He looks at Thor again, taking in the god's ragged, wide-eyed look. The Titan is no mental health expert, but he can tell that whatever happened just then, it wasn't on purpose, and the god is likely feeling aftereffects of his own.

"Time out, okay?" He shrinks back down to his typical size, not wanting to tower over his friend. "So what brought that on? Was it because I grabbed you?"