"I don't know... a few minutes, at least." He settles his head against hers, tucking his chin against her shoulder as if they were merely cuddling on the couch. Despite his smile, however, there's a quiet thoughtfulness that hangs about him, more than any lingering anxiety from the nightmare.

The rain continues, lightening to a steady drizzle, inscribing a circle around their little shelter. Thor's gaze is on the ocean and the shifting clouds, fingers idly stroking Amelia where he holds her against him. "I used to come here often," he tells her, though she already knows. He takes another breath as if to speak, but the words stop before they leave him, and he mulls it over a little more.

"On Asgard," he begins again, an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice, "we were secure in our defenses. Tens of thousands served in the Einherjar alone, and a great shield could be raised over the city if we had need. If... if something ever happened here..." Maybe this is the root of the nightmare, or just a result of it, but Thor cannot shake this thought alone.