Loki's remark sends an odd, bittersweet pang through Thor's heart, and he's not sure he wants to think too much about why that is. Instead he reaches for the comfortable familiarity of brotherly banter, the reply falling from his lips with very little conscious input on his part. "It's good to be appreciated." He doesn't pull away from the hand through his hair either, strange though it still is to have it shorn so short. It's growing out again, but slowly still. It will be a long time before it's restored to its former glory, but the rest of him is not so fortunate.
As his current predicament proves well enough.
It isn't an obvious choice, and Thor doesn't answer right away, stalling for time as he busies himself with stretching out more fully on the cot, the nervousness somehow worse once he's lying down and can more easily picture what's about to happen to him. Regardless of whether it's going to hurt or not, he's never had to sit there and listen to his body being torn apart and put back together. But being unconscious through the entire ordeal is not exactly appealing either, leaving himself defenseless and insensate when anything could be being done to him without his knowing. But it needs to be done, no matter what he chooses, and so he has to decide.
"Awake," he answers after a long moment, sounding uncertain. He knows that neither Loki nor Fǫnn would think him weak for sleeping through something like this, but what's left of his tattered pride insists that he be strong for them anyway. He is still the king to those few who are left, no matter whether his foundation is crumbling or not. Some part of him needs this, to prove that he hasn't lost himself entirely just yet, to himself if no one else. "And keep the rain going, please." It probably won't be enough to drown out the sounds of surgery, but it's helped him so far, just having that soothing patter in the background.
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As his current predicament proves well enough.
It isn't an obvious choice, and Thor doesn't answer right away, stalling for time as he busies himself with stretching out more fully on the cot, the nervousness somehow worse once he's lying down and can more easily picture what's about to happen to him. Regardless of whether it's going to hurt or not, he's never had to sit there and listen to his body being torn apart and put back together. But being unconscious through the entire ordeal is not exactly appealing either, leaving himself defenseless and insensate when anything could be being done to him without his knowing. But it needs to be done, no matter what he chooses, and so he has to decide.
"Awake," he answers after a long moment, sounding uncertain. He knows that neither Loki nor Fǫnn would think him weak for sleeping through something like this, but what's left of his tattered pride insists that he be strong for them anyway. He is still the king to those few who are left, no matter whether his foundation is crumbling or not. Some part of him needs this, to prove that he hasn't lost himself entirely just yet, to himself if no one else. "And keep the rain going, please." It probably won't be enough to drown out the sounds of surgery, but it's helped him so far, just having that soothing patter in the background.