If nothing else, firsthand experience with a multitude of distinctly different Lokis lets Thor easily get his mind around the idea of this young man being an alternate of someone else he knew.

Not that the rest of what he's said makes much sense, but never mind that.

"Well, you use it well," he says, finally letting up on the storm, the rain ceasing as abruptly as it began. Thor's arms are still reddened and aching, but they're well on their way to healing. His armor, on the other hand, has a thick band of lumpy, badly melted duct tape stuck on it still, and Thor makes a face when he realizes it's still there.