New York City sparkles and glows beneath him from where he stands inside the Avengers Tower. Watching the bustle and hustle and life is always a comfort to Thor. Seeing the (sometimes) quiet mundanity of the planet he’s sworn to protect—- with his life, if he must. A glass held carefully in hand; he lifts it to his mouth and sips. The whiskey within has such little affect it may as well be nonexistent, but he drinks it, anyway. Aside from the distant honking, the very faint whistle of wind just beyond the glass he’s nearly pressed against, and the shifting of the building around him, all is quiet.
Until @philanthropic asks, "Wouldn't you rather be at home than here?”
Night fell a while ago, but it’s hardly a measure of the time Thor has spent here when the days have become weeks. Weeks become months. To him, it’s nothing. He’s been gone from Asgard for a breath, a blink, a mere moment in time. He wonders if the meaning behind Stark’s query is a curiosity they all share: why is he still here? Idly dragging the pad of his finger along the rim of the glass, Thor swallows a sigh, keeps his eyes trained stubbornly ahead at the brilliantly lit city.
What he doesn’t say—- what he doesn’t want to say—- is that returning to Asgard is complicated. To state the obvious (Jane is here, he wants to be near her, remaining on Asgard when he need not would put strain on a relationship that has already endured more distance than a blossoming love should) wouldn’t be dishonest… but it wouldn’t be the entirety of the truth, either. To share what lurks beneath the surface of that honest yet deceptive answer would be to discuss the suffocating absences. He returns to Valaskjalf and avoids the hall that leads to the room in which he’d witnessed the slaying of his mother. Each step comes with it its own ache. However slight, it always lingers just in the back of his mind; knowing his home is haunted by fond memories of Loki. Knowing they hadn’t repaired the relationship before…
Odin may say he is proud of his son, but it is a difficult sentiment to swallow. Looking him in the eye is oft just as hard.
Thor wants to say none of that. So he quirks up the corner of his mouth, looking over his shoulder with a crease in his cheeks. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you tire of me already, Stark? And this is your cordial way of attempting to gauge when you may at last be rid of me?” Spoken lightheartedly, teasingly. He huffs the ghost of a laugh before turning away from the view fully, casting his glance down to his drink. “I don’t mind being here. I enjoy my time spent on Midgard —- truly.”
