Very chatty, this magpie. Thor doesn’t remember his brother having a pet, or a familiar - another difference between their worlds, maybe.

“I would never trample you,” Thor protests, but allowed himself to be herded toward the couch, which thankfully looks a little less pathetic now that he’s cleaned up the blankets he’d been sleeping in for the last few months. Or, well, not cleaned up but relocated to the bedroom, but it’s progress anyway. He sits down heavily, and once Loki lets go of his arm, he worries his hands together absently in a nervous habit, not really aware he’s doing it. “So what’s this trick, then?”