It reminds Thor somewhat of Stark’s old workspace, though the vehicles are neither sleek nor spotless as the billionaire’s had been. These are vehicles that have seen rough, heavy use, battered and dented, paint scoured away by sand and wind, cobbled together from a thousand different pieces ‘til every one is a unique work to itself, an exercise in resourcefulness and using what they have in ways they were likely not intended.
Being stared at is nothing new, though it’s been some time since Thor has found himself under so many strangers’ gazes. Thor does not recognize their salute, but as Furiosa does not return it, neither does he. Instead he finds himself automatically falling into step just off her shoulder, as he once followed Odin’s lead, her authority obvious in the way she carries herself here, the way her people defer to her. While Thor is in no danger of forgetting that he is a guest here, he finds himself relaxing a little at finding an old, comfortable habit to follow.
Once on the lift platform, Thor peers curiously upward, trying to see how high it goes. His attention is quickly caught by the youngsters, however, and he shuffles a little awkwardly under their excited stares. He looks very little like the brash young warrior he used to be, the one no doubt described in their stories, and yet the two youths don’t look disappointed to learn who he is, not for a moment. Whether it’s the battle scars or simply childish excitement that’s to blame, it’s still something of a balm to his sorely wounded pride, and Thor manages a small smile in return. “Probably,” he answers, “though it depends on what you’ve heard.”
Furiosa’s glance is returned with a grateful sort of look, though. He doesn’t think he’s ready to deal with a bombardment of unrestrained questions, as he once did with his adoring public. At least he can rest easy knowing that whatever he does here won’t be broadcast live to the world. “I’d love to hear one of yours,” Thor agrees easily.
no subject
Being stared at is nothing new, though it’s been some time since Thor has found himself under so many strangers’ gazes. Thor does not recognize their salute, but as Furiosa does not return it, neither does he. Instead he finds himself automatically falling into step just off her shoulder, as he once followed Odin’s lead, her authority obvious in the way she carries herself here, the way her people defer to her. While Thor is in no danger of forgetting that he is a guest here, he finds himself relaxing a little at finding an old, comfortable habit to follow.
Once on the lift platform, Thor peers curiously upward, trying to see how high it goes. His attention is quickly caught by the youngsters, however, and he shuffles a little awkwardly under their excited stares. He looks very little like the brash young warrior he used to be, the one no doubt described in their stories, and yet the two youths don’t look disappointed to learn who he is, not for a moment. Whether it’s the battle scars or simply childish excitement that’s to blame, it’s still something of a balm to his sorely wounded pride, and Thor manages a small smile in return. “Probably,” he answers, “though it depends on what you’ve heard.”
Furiosa’s glance is returned with a grateful sort of look, though. He doesn’t think he’s ready to deal with a bombardment of unrestrained questions, as he once did with his adoring public. At least he can rest easy knowing that whatever he does here won’t be broadcast live to the world. “I’d love to hear one of yours,” Thor agrees easily.