Struggling doesn't mean you're weak. It's a thought that slips through his defenses like a knife sliding between ribs, nestling itself closer to his heart. Such a human sentiment, and yet... has Thor not seen his human teammates struggle, and thought no less of them? Do his own people not suffer their own nightmares, grapple with their own demons, and yet push on regardless? It's supposed to be different, for Thor. He's supposed to be a king - a god - who stands tall and strong for his people. But he isn't, so he hides himself away from them. Would they grant him the same kindness? Would he deserve it?

Thor has no answers, not yet, but the thought is planted, sending down its roots within him.

Besides, he suddenly has more urgent things to consider. He looks over at her, mildly startled at how abrupt and immediate their departure is, cutting off the self-doubt before it can grow large enough to give him excuses as to why he shouldn't go. "A note?" he repeats, his thoughts successfully derailed enough that he actually considers it. He has a few haunts around the village, and while it isn't often that someone other than Harley or the Valkyrie actively seeks him out, he might cause a disturbance if they do discover their king missing and fear that he's left them to die somewhere. "That's... a good idea."

He picks up his prosthetic arm as he rises, and gestures for her to join him on the short walk up to his house. It will only take him a matter of minutes to find something to scribble on, tacking the short message to his front door. Gone with Furiosa, will return.