It's true enough that Thor could have chosen some other metaphorical hole to crawl into, someplace he could drink himself into a stupor without well-meaning friends coming along to try to drag him out of his own head. For a while, before the escape pods had arrived, that's exactly what he had done here, living in the empty village alone. But as painful as it is to look at what's left of his people and how far they've fallen, there is a part of Thor that would be even more lost if he left, loneliness consuming him from the inside out without the ability to see them pushing onward despite their losses. Even if sometimes it feels as though they are moving on without him.

His grip on the empty bottle tightens, the aimless fidgeting grinding to a halt as Thor stares out over the sea, his mind's eye entirely elsewhere. "He destroyed them. With each other. Two days before we found him."

They'd been so close.

Even just thinking about that day is enough to make his breathing harshen, his heart thudding more heavily in his chest. The glass creaks in his hand and Thor forces himself to drop it before it can shatter, letting it fall to the grass. By now, he's had enough panic attacks to recognize the start of one, but if he doesn't get this out now, he's not going to be able to at all. "I cut his fucking head off. Like I should've the f-first time. It didn't change a thing."