Vaguely, Thor feels that he should probably be helping. This is his mess, and it's a poor show of hospitality for his guests to have to clean up after him in his own house, let alone before they've even sat down. But he's already told Steve that he could, and even Rocket is making the effort to fetch a few bottles out from under the table where they've rolled out of easy reach.
He should stop them. Take over, do it himself. But for some reason he can't bring himself to move, so instead he just sits uselessly on the couch with his ale, and tries not to watch them work as he drinks just for something to do with his hand.
Thor is not sure he's ever felt so at war with himself. He wants to be alone, but he doesn't want them to leave either, now that they're here. He doesn't want to talk about anything to do with... with that guy, but he's tired of only having his own thoughts for company, no matter how much he tries to drown them out with drink. He wants to drink enough to forget, but he wants to be sober enough that they won't worry about him more than he deserves. He should do something, but he doesn't know what, so he does nothing at all.
That last part has him blinking up at Steve, though, caught wrong-footed by the suggestion. "You want a tour of the town?" Of course they would, wouldn't they? This is supposed to be the New Asgard, or so the humans who deliver their supply shipments have been calling it. And Thor had never managed to show his home to his mortal friends before and now it's gone, and this is the kingdom he has to work with, if he can even call it that.
He's barely even aware that Rocket has slipped off toward the kitchen, poking around the refrigerator and the cabinets to investigate if there's even any food in the house. What the raccoon finds is not terribly encouraging, mostly just canned goods and shelf-stable snack foods, but no leftovers and nothing fresh. A few dirty dishes in the sink, though, so at least he's been eating something once in a while.
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He should stop them. Take over, do it himself. But for some reason he can't bring himself to move, so instead he just sits uselessly on the couch with his ale, and tries not to watch them work as he drinks just for something to do with his hand.
Thor is not sure he's ever felt so at war with himself. He wants to be alone, but he doesn't want them to leave either, now that they're here. He doesn't want to talk about anything to do with... with that guy, but he's tired of only having his own thoughts for company, no matter how much he tries to drown them out with drink. He wants to drink enough to forget, but he wants to be sober enough that they won't worry about him more than he deserves. He should do something, but he doesn't know what, so he does nothing at all.
That last part has him blinking up at Steve, though, caught wrong-footed by the suggestion. "You want a tour of the town?" Of course they would, wouldn't they? This is supposed to be the New Asgard, or so the humans who deliver their supply shipments have been calling it. And Thor had never managed to show his home to his mortal friends before and now it's gone, and this is the kingdom he has to work with, if he can even call it that.
He's barely even aware that Rocket has slipped off toward the kitchen, poking around the refrigerator and the cabinets to investigate if there's even any food in the house. What the raccoon finds is not terribly encouraging, mostly just canned goods and shelf-stable snack foods, but no leftovers and nothing fresh. A few dirty dishes in the sink, though, so at least he's been eating something once in a while.