"So you really used to ride a flying eight-legged horse into battles across the stars?"
Jane Foster rested her chin in her hands, gazing through the wire fence at Thor, who was covered in cement dust, her eyes sparkling.
"That was Sleipnir, the fastest steed in the Nine Realms." Thor wiped the sweat from his forehead, a smug smile unconsciously tugging at his lips.
"Back in Vanaheim, I routed those rebels single-handedly, with nothing but my hammer. The ale we drank back then packed a much stronger punch than your craft beer."
"Sounds like something out of The Lord of the Rings." Jane passed him a bottle of chilled mineral water.
Thor took it, gulped down half the bottle, and let out a long, satisfied breath.
Over the past few days, he had truly experienced what it meant to live at the bottom of Midgard's society.
He hauled bricks, mixed mortar, and unclogged drains during the day, then endured Jessica's vicious tongue at night.
Strangely, though, his heart, once restless and furious over the loss of his divine power, had gradually calmed through all that grueling physical labor.
Especially when he was with Jane.
This mortal woman never mocked his fall from grace, nor did she teach him lessons with her fists at the slightest provocation like Jessica. She was willing to listen to his tales of Asgard's glory and the wonders of the Nine Realms.
"Jane, once I get Mjolnir back..." Thor looked into her eyes, his voice earnest. "I'll take you to see Asgard. The stars there are ten thousand times more beautiful than they are on Earth."
"Ahem!"
An extraordinarily ill-timed cough interrupted the growing warmth between them.
Dressed casually, Yang Ming adjusted his Gold-Rimmed Glasses and approached like a miserly landlord inspecting his property.
"Hey, Blondie,