He does not expect an answer from the boy, but the way Agnarr unhesitatingly settles against Thor's side is more than enough. It's difficult not to think of what must have happened to the boy's family, to all the children's families, and wonder what will happen to them all in the uncertain days ahead. But there is a small comfort to have that small warm body nestled against his ribs in the crook of his only arm, proof of at least one life saved.

Thor carefully does not think of the void on his other side, the stark absence of both a second child to embrace, and an arm with which to do it.

Instead he turns his attention to Loki, absently rubbing small, soothing circles on Agnarr's shoulder. It's an unpleasant reality that none of them had been prepared enough to leave Asgard, let alone the Statesman, but Thor is of a slightly better mind to think on it now than he was before. He pushes down the guilt, the failure of his duties to keep his people safe, as best he can. There will be time for that later, when he's no longer surrounded by tangible reminders of what little he'd managed to save. "Good. That's... that's good. I'm sorry to have missed them. Maybe the next time I visit."

Whether it is to have Fǫnn check that he is healing well, or perhaps to remind himself on his darker days that there are those who still live because of him, there will be a next time. Thor is certain of very little anymore, but if it is within his power, he will do it. Even if he does little more than sit with Agnarr in silence together, or watches the baby sleep. And perhaps, if the fates are kind and the Infinity Stones are found, one day soon he will be able to bring them good news of his own.