Thor would never fully understand Midgardian women. You pledge them your protection and they only get offended and run off. It was an endearing trait at times, but not here.

(What she said about gods in mortal form--it troubled him. Surely it was not so--and yet--

And yet at times of late he had not felt quite right. There had been moments of--disorientation. He could not quite recall for certain how he had managed to come to Midgard this time, and there had been no word from Asgard. But surely there was nothing sinister in it. Asgard was often quiet, and his journeys to Midgard were so frequent now it was no surprise they blurred.

Your wife, Sif.

Ludicrous.)

"Sarah!"

He would not trouble himself with strange thoughts, for there was battle at hand. At once he flings his hammer, striking down several agents.

"You must stand behind me," he instructs, striding forward, "I will protect you and then we shall speak further--"

Some weapon crackles, and to his great surprise he is knocked on his back, a hole charred in his armor. He rises, a hand on the burn seared into his flesh, and stares levelly at the agents.

"That was unwise."