"A dinner?" It's so far off-base from what Thor had expected that he truly needs that moment to process that he's not being called to battle. A dinner, for Steve? But why? Wait, what month is it? Thor had never made a particular habit of tracking the Midgardian calendar before, but he's spent enough time on Earth to mark special occasions with his human teammates in the past. Holidays, anniversaries... birthdays. Is it Steve's already?
Still, a social gathering is far less daunting than combat, and Thor forces himself to relax his grip on the device, his heart gradually slowing from its breakneck pace as he breathes. "That's... that's good of you," he says, once he realizes she's waiting for him to respond. "For morale, I mean. And... that sort of thing." Focus. Come on. Thor kneads at his forehead, willing the last of his headache to subside.
Thor is far too young to be feeling so old, and yet as he thinks about his human friends and how frequently they mark the days of their birth, he's struck anew at just how brief their lives really are. Even Steven, who is perhaps the oldest human that Thor has met, is still younger than some of the children in Asvera. Time marches on, whether Thor acknowledges it or not. How many more birthdays will his friends have, before there are no more? He dreads that day, and yet refusing to acknowledge the inevitability will not change it either.
He clears his throat, hoping his voice does not betray where his thoughts have gone. "I'm... honored. That you thought of me. Do you... need help? With the planning." He does not know how much use he would be at such a thing, especially now, but it seems like something the old Thor might have said, and so it comes out of him without much conscious thought.
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Still, a social gathering is far less daunting than combat, and Thor forces himself to relax his grip on the device, his heart gradually slowing from its breakneck pace as he breathes. "That's... that's good of you," he says, once he realizes she's waiting for him to respond. "For morale, I mean. And... that sort of thing." Focus. Come on. Thor kneads at his forehead, willing the last of his headache to subside.
Thor is far too young to be feeling so old, and yet as he thinks about his human friends and how frequently they mark the days of their birth, he's struck anew at just how brief their lives really are. Even Steven, who is perhaps the oldest human that Thor has met, is still younger than some of the children in Asvera. Time marches on, whether Thor acknowledges it or not. How many more birthdays will his friends have, before there are no more? He dreads that day, and yet refusing to acknowledge the inevitability will not change it either.
He clears his throat, hoping his voice does not betray where his thoughts have gone. "I'm... honored. That you thought of me. Do you... need help? With the planning." He does not know how much use he would be at such a thing, especially now, but it seems like something the old Thor might have said, and so it comes out of him without much conscious thought.