Thor does not remember the entire census they'd taken of the survivors on the Statesman, but there had been a few that had managed to keep their families, in part if nothing more. After the massacre... it seems so unlikely that many still remain. Sigrid and Eindrid may be more fortunate than they know. They have all lost friends and family both, and though it tears at his heart that this is something that they share, there is a dark sort of comfort in it. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Thor thinks he might understand why the Allfather is named as such, why he is needed to bind Asgard together. Now, more than ever.

He does not know if he is up for the task, not now, not yet. But uncle... that doesn't sound so bad.

There's a fond, faint smile on his lips as Loki draws Solvi into bantering with him, edged with heartache. "'Uncle Loki' does have a nice ring to it," he muses, scratching his beard as if in thought. "It'd be a shame not to use it."

Agnarr's silence is troubling, if not terribly surprising. The boy is old enough to fully understand what has happened, or well enough, and too young to know how to cope with the horrors he has lived through. Thor himself scarcely knows how, even at his age, even with the countless battles he's seen over the centuries. But never with this scale of loss, not to Asgard, nor the universe. He does not know if he can be a pillar of strength for others with his own foundations so broken, but it seems a small thing to put his arm around the boy when he leans close, tucking him safe and secure against his side.

"That's all right," he agrees quietly, turning his head toward the youngster to see him better. "I have not done much speaking this past week either. Words aren't always what we need for ourselves, are they?"