It's been easier, somehow, for Thor to keep himself confined to mostly just the one room. Like he's just a guest, respecting the sanctity of his host's belongings, avoiding erasing these last traces of a stranger's life cut short. Yet at the same time, he's done so little to keep the space tidy, telling himself he will do it later, and later, but just the thought of doing it seems a monumental effort, even as the detritus piles deeper every day. So later never comes.

"I... yeah, fine." It's not like Steve can judge him harder than he's already judged himself, and yet it still makes a mild dread clench in his chest, and Thor reaches for one of the few full bottles still on the table, popping off the cap with his thumb, before pausing. "Sorry, did you... do you want something to drink?" Just because he's not used to houseguests is no excuse for being a poor host, and they've come all this way to... see him. Which he still doesn't quite understand, because why would he deserve their attention anymore?

Rocket gives him a look, sniffing at the bottle and making a face. "Y'know what, I'll pass."