Used to humans who only know enough about their vegetables and herbs to buy them in dried little shakers at the supermarket, it's another point of familiarity to hear from one who's able to forage and collect useful plants in the wild, or at least recognize them growing in a garden. Already he can see how invaluable Amelia's knowledge will be for both healers and cooks in replicating medicines and familiar dishes, of as close as they can find, anyway.

He hasn't paid as close attention to the docks as he probably should have, though that has been true of most things the remnants of his council has brought to his attention. There's probably a good deal that they don't bother to tell him these days, knowing that he'll either forget or fail to listen and respond in the first place. So whether she is overstepping or not, Thor really doesn't know enough to tell, and he can't exactly hide the shameful flicker of guilt at that realization. "That's... very generous of you. I'm honored."

Are the docks really that disorganized? It wouldn't surprise him if it was. "Most of my people were never sailors," he tells her, trying to remember if any of the survivors were those lucky few and coming up short. "We used to get most of our fish from Vanaheim as tribute. Asgard... it had a sea, of sorts, but not one easily fished. Water going over the edge of the world, you know." Speaking of home has become a bit harder since the events of the last few months, and especially since settling here. Asvera is no longer some vague, nebulous idea of hope but a real place, solid and busy and alive, and dreams of what could have been are replaced by what is real. And it is far humbler than the Asgardians are used to. Thor more than most.