Thor tilts his metal hand back and forth in a so-so gesture, when he's asked about the farming. "The soil is poor and the climate is cold, but we can make it work. Grow lots of root vegetables or something. As for power..." He hadn't honestly considered whether Midgardian infrastructure would be up to the task. But this, at least, is something where there is an obvious backup solution. "I can take care of that, if it's needed." Another low rumble of thunder comes from the skies outside the house, as if to punctuate his point.

It's not a perfect solution, of course, and Norns forbid they have an outage on a day when Thor is struggling to get out of bed. But he would rather not think of that, right now. He's still exhausted from his last panic attack, and doesn't really want to risk provoking another.

Prometheus is being sensible about his alcohol consumption, whereas Thor is... not. The placement of the kegs in the living room, rather than the kitchen, makes it a lot easier for him to refill his glass without getting up, though this time he doesn't bother to warm it up. "Place called the Viper's Pit," Thor answers, leaning back again, and maybe it's just his mind playing tricks on him that's making him feel the warmth of the alcohol already, but he doesn't particularly care either way. The quicker it takes hold of him, the faster he will feel better, or so he tells himself. "It's run by a... another Loki." He wavers only for a moment before pushing on, not giving himself time to dwell on that. "Maybe if I run into that nature spirit from last autumn, she can curse me and I'll make my own again," he adds, and chuckles as if that's supposed to be funny.