The rune... Norns, Yule seems like it was centuries ago. Thor had almost forgotten the gifts he'd given out, small tokens and trinkets that nevertheless were chosen with care for their recipients. It's on the tip of his tongue to remind Steve that the runestones were imbued with no such deliberate magic, meant more as symbols of sentiments than as talismans, but he bites back the words. If Steve finds comfort in its presence, if he believes it to be a help, who is Thor to tell him otherwise?

Maybe it's luck, or superstition, or nothing at all in the end. But human belief is a powerful thing, making gods of visitors to their world, driving Earth's people to fight stronger, harder, not from desperation but from confidence and faith.

So instead he gives Steve's shoulder a squeeze of support, and keeps his small smile on his lips. "Justice and victory," he muses out loud. "As far as runes go, it's not a bad choice to have along." He doesn't mention that tyr also stands for a willingness to sacrifice oneself for others, though perhaps Steve has not forgotten. If the fates are kind, they need not consider it at all.