Had a son. Thor nearly asks what became of him, but if the story ends how he suspects, he does not want to hear it now. There is too much grief already on his shoulders, mourning for strangers he's never met and never will. "Good memories, I hope," he says instead, not quite sure what he will do if the answer is no, though there is nothing in his friend's manner to suggest it will be. "I doubt I could've hidden myself as well as you have," Thor adds, thinking back to the one and only time he'd had to try. He'd failed then, too, although perhaps that had not entirely been his own fault.

He doesn't laugh at the clarification, though something like a smile pulls at his lips for a moment, a faint echo of the broad grins he'd had for his friend before. "They may have to find different hobbies here. But you're welcome to visit them anytime you like." After everything his people have lost, Thor would rather cut off his remaining arm than take anything from them again.

His gaze does not follow the Titan's, looking back out toward the sea. "A little. We get shipments of supplies from Svolvær every fortnight. And there's a village on the other side of the mountain," he adds, gesturing vaguely toward the mainland, and the mountain that looms up shortly after the shore. "Sometimes the humans there pay us a visit." All things he's heard secondhand, however.