She could barely restrain herself from a zippy one-liner about superheroes definitely being tools, but she managed to control her loaded-pistol-of-a-mouth. She would pat herself on the back later with a bottle of whiskey. In this business, it didn’t pay to piss off colleagues; though she used that term loosely. The insult would be wasted on Thor anyway, she assured herself. Maybe she’d use that bad boy if she ever happened upon Daredevil again. “You do know matadors get gored all the time by the bulls, right?,” she asked with a skeptical, almost exasperated look etched across her features.
A glance was taken down at her own outfit when Thor remarked on her distinct lack of pride in her powers. Dryly, she asked, “What, this outfit doesn’t scream Hey I’m a superpowered freak, please use me as a punching bag because I have a thrillseeking addiction?” Despite the sarcasm fairly dripping from her voice, her lips were twisted into something like a smile, but her shoulders were tense. This conversation was reminiscent of every argument she’d had with Trish about the topic. The two of them often had to agree to disagree and this felt similar.
“My prey?,” she echoed with mingled irritation and disbelief. “Listen, that guy was just some asshole who seeks out weakness because it makes him feel like he’s more of a man. And when that weakness, in his case his ex-girlfriend, tries to grow a pair, he can’t help but take her down because he’s stronger and tougher than she is and he wants her to know that. I just wanted to let him know that there’s always a bigger fish. A fact made better because I have tits and can also benchpress a car,” she explained, her voice slow and measured. “And that’s it. No bigger meaning behind it. I don’t have prey and I don’t fight injustice. I’m not one of you, got it?,” she demanded, attempting to ignore the note of hysteria climbing up her throat in response to all this pressure suddenly heaped on her thin shoulders.
It was telling that Jessica seemed to be working hard on convincing herself as much as Thor.
Thor ignored the jabs about her appearance. They didn’t matter. The costume didn’t matter. It was just living up to the name. She knew that. Freyja has known it as well. Striving to fill that ideal. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. To be worthy of the faith people had in the name ‘Thor.’ No this woman’s opinion on her appearance or powers weren’t a cause for concern with Thor. It was the woman’s opinion of herself that was starting to worry Thor. She held up her hands in peace, seeking to diffuse the warrior's irritation. Her actions spoke to Thor in ways that her words didn’t. She wanted to calm her.
“Thou may not see thy plight as that against injustice but I would disagree. Thou said thee are a bigger fish, no? Kind warrior, thou are protecting those who would normally be missed by warriors of my focus.” She smiled at the woman, lips gentle but sad. There was so much to do and so little time. Thor knew things fell in between the cracks. She knew that she missed things. That she could cause problems. That there was pain in the world that even with the powers of a god she could not fix. Nor the powers of a scientist, a doctor. She hastened to speak again before the woman could voice her disagreement. “--People come to thee and thou takes thy time to protect the ones who are unable to protect themselves.” She stopped her walking then, her arm coming across her chest to rest on her own heart in salute and she bowed her head to the woman. “These are valiant acts, no matter the size. I would name thee hero.” she continued earnestly. “Even if thee does not accept the title I still would like to extend my thanks and gratitude.” The woman might not have a mission, she might not strive to fight injustice but when the call came to her, she answered. That was all Thor cared about.
