There have been darker days, early on, when Thor had been in greater danger of seeking an end to his guilt and grief. He’d gone to Loki, during the worst one, the day he had finally slain the Titan and achieved nothing at all. It’s far too soon still for the burden to be lifted from him, even just a little, but perhaps he is becoming numb to the weight as the days have passed. In any case, it is not his intention right now, and though the water runs for more than ten minutes, he responds when she knocks on the door. “Just... give me a second.”

‘A second’ is more like another five minutes, but when he finally does come back out, he just looks tired. He’d forgotten to get a change of clothes, so he’s wearing the same ones again, and his hair drips a wet ring around his shoulders.

Thor still doesn’t feel as though his thoughts have steadied, but he’s braced himself to deal with company at least. His gaze darts over the kitchen, seeing where she’s cleaned up after him, and feels another pang of shame. “You don’t have to do that.” Though who will, if not him? The state of his house is proof enough how little he’s done to look after himself, and he’s ungratefully spurned the gift of having it in the first place.