Someday, Thor is going to have to ask Prometheus more about this whole ‘making humans’ thing. How it works, why he decided to do it, that sort of thing. Just because Thor’s not a sorcerer doesn’t mean the answers might not be interesting to hear. But right now if he asks, he’s probably going to forget within the hour. Better to wait until the room isn’t swaying so much. “Cheers to you then,” he says instead, raising his glass a little.

The possibility of spending his entire life as a bachelor has honestly never occurred to Thor as a real option. There are certain expectations on a prince of Asgard, particularly the crown prince, and now that he’s king that hasn’t changed a bit. But even that aside, he does want that sort of domesticity, someone to spend the rest of his life with. To make a home. Not... not this, what he has now.

He frowns a little at the turn of phrase, mouthing ‘yuck my yum?’ in befuddlement before just shaking his head. “I do. Or... I did. I don’t know anymore.” He rubs his hands across his face, feeling more tired all of a sudden. “My father wanted me to marry Sif,” he admits, and though he’d brushed it off at the time, assuming it was little more than incentive to stop pursuing Jane... he’s had a good long while to think things over, particularly after running into Sif in the Nexus. Bereft of her memories, yet looking at him as if he was the sun itself, and him wondering when in the Nine that happened. Wondering if maybe he should’ve been looking closer all along.