If Furiosa was going to hold the relative wealth of others worlds against them, she'd be picking fights with half the Nexus. It is becoming a source of pride, how she and her people have managed to survive a place so rough and ruthless, and how they are improving it with every step they take, but being rude about it won't make them any friends.
Granted, the Winter taught her a few things about how softer people handle a crisis, and she's going to be warier going forward, but there's nothing to be gained by pointing it out. And Thor wasn't there at all. As far as she can tell, what's happened to him is beyond her world's ken. Wealth and resources don't matter so much when the disaster that strikes is wholesale annihilation of living people, with no means to mitigate it.
When he tells her he can still feel his fingers, she breaks into a small, awed smile. That is a fascinating and valuable thing to learn, that even a god can feel a phantom limb. She stretches out her stump a little and nods her understanding.
His discomfort and empathy with her story is reserved enough not to make her uncomfortable. She's not sure what to make of the pose he takes, though.
"I was lucky," she says. "In a way. They figured with an arm missing I wasn't fit for the Court. Put me in with the war pups, and I got to learn and train like a War Boy. The Ace made my first prosthesis to help me work on bike engines. Welded a wrench onto a cup and put a strap on it." She smiles, faintly, something nostalgic in it.
"You haven't met him yet. I'll bring him some time, if you'll let me." Reaching across to him, she rests her shortened arm across his knees. "If you'd ever like to visit the Citadel, you're still welcome. When I have free time, I help make limbs for some of the people who've lost theirs or were born without. Another example of someone getting along with one is always welcome."
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Granted, the Winter taught her a few things about how softer people handle a crisis, and she's going to be warier going forward, but there's nothing to be gained by pointing it out. And Thor wasn't there at all. As far as she can tell, what's happened to him is beyond her world's ken. Wealth and resources don't matter so much when the disaster that strikes is wholesale annihilation of living people, with no means to mitigate it.
When he tells her he can still feel his fingers, she breaks into a small, awed smile. That is a fascinating and valuable thing to learn, that even a god can feel a phantom limb. She stretches out her stump a little and nods her understanding.
His discomfort and empathy with her story is reserved enough not to make her uncomfortable. She's not sure what to make of the pose he takes, though.
"I was lucky," she says. "In a way. They figured with an arm missing I wasn't fit for the Court. Put me in with the war pups, and I got to learn and train like a War Boy. The Ace made my first prosthesis to help me work on bike engines. Welded a wrench onto a cup and put a strap on it." She smiles, faintly, something nostalgic in it.
"You haven't met him yet. I'll bring him some time, if you'll let me." Reaching across to him, she rests her shortened arm across his knees. "If you'd ever like to visit the Citadel, you're still welcome. When I have free time, I help make limbs for some of the people who've lost theirs or were born without. Another example of someone getting along with one is always welcome."