While the reactions towards yesterday's attacks seem to range from terrified to amused, Thor's own is distinctly the latter; much as it had reminded him of something Loki might have done (and indeed, there's a part of him that wonders, despite the evidence, if his brother hadn't played some part in the events), there was a certain joy to be found in plowing through the bits of fluff with Mjolnir, even if the challenge was lacking. In the aftermath, Thor has spent the better part of the day rounding up stuffed carcasses, the 'dead' slung over his shoulder in a hand-tied net. He means to burn them later (they're no good for eating), but he's distracted from his self-imposed task of gathering when he crosses a relatively large man (by mortal standards, at least), sitting on the steps of a building Thor has had little reason to enter in the past beyond simple curiosity
( ... )
He hadn't had a smoke for four months, and Pop would've smacked the cigarette right out of his mouth, but if ever a guy needed an excuse to fall off the wagon, this was it.
His shoulder ached, sure, but it was a dull throb now, the rattling aches and pains in the rest of his body fading into the background. He had bigger shit on his mind.
But this guy... This guy was fucking huge. Well out of Tommy's weight class, but that didn't mean he hadn't taken one or two of 'em down before. That also didn't mean he hadn't gotten his ass handed to him by a few, too.
His eyes narrowed just slightly, he exhaled a stream of smoke and said, "Yeah, something like that."
"Not with these, I hope?" says Thor, hoisting his net off his shoulder just enough to give the toys a shake. There's an easy bemusement about the question, for all that it's tinged with an edge of doubt; he doesn't think he has seen this man before, which would therefore indicate a new arrival, but truthfully, Thor has been more concerned about learning the land than the people. He's friendly, talks to those he runs across throughout the course of his day, but he's not always the most observant, a bad habit he's constantly trying to correct.
Eyeing the sack of ruined toys, Tommy blinked slowly, a line of confusion drawn between his brows. "Not with those," he confirmed, taking a drag from his cigarette and flicking ash onto the sand by his bare feet.
These people really were all completely batshit.
"Couple hours ago, thereabouts. Feel like I've got a goddamn sign around my neck."
"Most here have little cause for fighting," Thor replies, though he wonders if it that's precisely true. There are reasons to fight, after all, if not a constant supply of opponents. The foes who have surfaced in Thor's time in this realm have been veritable monsters, but their appearances have been sporadic, peppering a handful of days every other month.
"Others are simply observant." He bows his, slightly, in greeting. "I am Thor Odinson."
"Don't got much cause for it, myself, these days. Not outside the ring," he admitted with a shrug of his uninjured shoulder.
The name didn't surprise him, much. It wasn't unusual, in the business, for guys to crown themselves with stage names like that. Mythological figures and great fighters throughout history, thinking it might do a little to scare their opponents. This guy? He looked like a fighter. A good one. The lack of attitude spoke of an innate confidence that most guys spent their whole damn lives trying to fake.
The bow, though... That was kind of weird.
"Tommy Riordan," he answered, without pause, because it had been a long damn time since he'd gone by Tommy Conlon. Everybody with ESPN knew Tommy Riordan was a lie, but it was a habit that a few new stories on TV hadn't shaken.
"Tell me, Tommy Riordan," starts Thor, not waiting for a formal invitation to sit down, though he keeps a respectable distance, nevertheless, "are you from Earth?"
Most are from Midgard, or some version of it, it seems, and this man's name is hint enough. Though Thor longs for the day he stumbles across a fellow Asgardian, he knows by now not to be too disappointed by their absence, much as he misses home.
He barked out a laugh, then, which made his shoulder hurt like a bitch, but it couldn't be helped. That wasn't a question he was going to get used to being asked, any time soon.
"Yeah," he answered, still visibly wary of the guy and all his amiable sincerity. Not that there was anything wrong with it, it was just a little more than he was used to. "I take it that means you're not."
"What gave it away?" he asks, almost wry. That he doesn't quite fit in amongst the people here is both a point of pride and of conflict; Loki would argue that he's acclimatized too well, that he's forgotten some inherent part of his heritage, but while Thor sometimes has his doubts, there's more evidence to suggest his brother is merely indulging in one of his games than there is of him speaking the truth.
Gaze tipping upward, Thor contemplates the sky, as though expecting Heimdall to be watching him even at this very moment.
"No," he says, shaking his head, and letting a sigh pass through his lips. "I'm from Asgard."
His knowledge of Norse mythology was a little rocky, but he read comics as a kid. Not religiously, but that place, coupled with the name the guy had given, was enough to spark some recognition.
God, this place was fucking weird.
"Asgard? So, Thor... that's your real name? Not some kind of stage name or whatever?" Tommy asked flatly, and it was too much to even be freaked out by the idea that he was talking to a mythological character. A fucking superhero. It was just another thing to add to the overload of weird shit he'd seen that day. "Or are you just fuckin' crazy?"
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His shoulder ached, sure, but it was a dull throb now, the rattling aches and pains in the rest of his body fading into the background. He had bigger shit on his mind.
But this guy... This guy was fucking huge. Well out of Tommy's weight class, but that didn't mean he hadn't taken one or two of 'em down before. That also didn't mean he hadn't gotten his ass handed to him by a few, too.
His eyes narrowed just slightly, he exhaled a stream of smoke and said, "Yeah, something like that."
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"Did you only just arrive?"
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These people really were all completely batshit.
"Couple hours ago, thereabouts. Feel like I've got a goddamn sign around my neck."
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"Others are simply observant." He bows his, slightly, in greeting. "I am Thor Odinson."
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The name didn't surprise him, much. It wasn't unusual, in the business, for guys to crown themselves with stage names like that. Mythological figures and great fighters throughout history, thinking it might do a little to scare their opponents. This guy? He looked like a fighter. A good one. The lack of attitude spoke of an innate confidence that most guys spent their whole damn lives trying to fake.
The bow, though... That was kind of weird.
"Tommy Riordan," he answered, without pause, because it had been a long damn time since he'd gone by Tommy Conlon. Everybody with ESPN knew Tommy Riordan was a lie, but it was a habit that a few new stories on TV hadn't shaken.
Reply
Most are from Midgard, or some version of it, it seems, and this man's name is hint enough. Though Thor longs for the day he stumbles across a fellow Asgardian, he knows by now not to be too disappointed by their absence, much as he misses home.
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"Yeah," he answered, still visibly wary of the guy and all his amiable sincerity. Not that there was anything wrong with it, it was just a little more than he was used to. "I take it that means you're not."
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Gaze tipping upward, Thor contemplates the sky, as though expecting Heimdall to be watching him even at this very moment.
"No," he says, shaking his head, and letting a sigh pass through his lips. "I'm from Asgard."
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God, this place was fucking weird.
"Asgard? So, Thor... that's your real name? Not some kind of stage name or whatever?" Tommy asked flatly, and it was too much to even be freaked out by the idea that he was talking to a mythological character. A fucking superhero. It was just another thing to add to the overload of weird shit he'd seen that day. "Or are you just fuckin' crazy?"
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