WANDA! [ Thor's indoor voice is sometimes not so different from his outdoor voice. He's on his feet in an instant, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pressing his own stein into her hands while he gestures for another. ] Alcohol keeps the liver well preserved, I hear. Come, sit! I swear the mead's improved since the last time I was here... Ahh, I'm going to miss this place.

[ He drops onto the bench opposite her, which gives an ominous creak. Despite his cheerful demeanor and the massive quantities of mead and honey wine he's consumed, Thor is far from drunk. Mortal liquor has barely any effect on him, in truth — but he has said more than his fair share of goodbyes in recent memory. He fears that if he begins to weep again, he will know what it is to birth a river from tears, as some gods do.

He looks at her, hopeful. ] Will we be going through the rifts together, then? I would not wish to lose my memory of our time together again.