"Oho!" Loki cannot think of loss now, cannot think of grief or breakdowns or mourning. He cannot allow himself to think that these people are not of his Asgard. It matters not. They are here, and they are connected to him. This Thor is his brother now, because he has to be. The Norns must have planned the story this way.

He cannot bear the thought of being the sole stray from his world. A dead god, helpless and alone. Every person from a parallel world, be they Asgardian or Avenger, he will claim if he can. He has been, all along. Yes, let me be the Loki that destroyed your New York. Even resentment is a lifeline. Better than nothing. Better than solitude.

"Oh," he chuckles at Thor. "You ought to know by now, Brother, that's precisely the way to get me to hug you."

Congratulations, Thor. Now you have a healer on one arm, and Loki wrapped around your free side. Such determined affection. And soapy water.

Indoors, there's a large common room, relatively dimly lit, with a couple couches, a blanket fort hung with a garland of dandelions, and some mats and cushions on the floor. There are crayons and newsprint, a stuffed bear and a set of blocks that some of the children have been playing with. On one of the couches Solvi sits, and next to her a little girl is holding a familiar sleeping infant.

"As well as can be expected," Loki answers Thor. "I've done my best, but we have also had some generous hosts give them sanctuary. Material needs are all met; that ought to please you."

Emotional needs are harder. It's a work in progress.