Despite the severity of the situation, Thor's eye did light up - along with his expression - at the sight of the large beer. He reached out for it eagerly and curled his hand around the handle, lifting it to his mouth and taking a hearty swig, draining three-quarters of it in one swift go, watching as it refilled to the top, pleased by the innocent use of magic.
Though it was a passing delight; the conversation was too sombre for him to ruminate on the mug for too long.
"Our mother taught him," he said, "And... Loki is exceptionally talented." He was, after all, the God of Mischief. Amongst other things. "Which part is concerning, that he can walk the hidden paths or that I cannot reach Heimdall?"
Making a note to ask his brother what he had taken - if anything - for the sake of Asgard's future, Thor cast his mind to Heimdall. He hadn't heard from his old friend in a long time, the longest it had ever been. That, combined with the ill feeling that was crawling through him, that intensified whenever he looked at his brother, and Valkryie, and even Sif... It was untenable.
"He can," Thor confirmed. "Except the secret, dark paths that Loki travels, of course," Because why wouldn't Loki have found a way to travel that hid him from sight? "And wherever I am, he can reach me. Regardless of no longer controlling the Bifrost, his abilities were not linked to Asgard." Like Thor's own, in fact, he felt that losing Asgard seemed only to have made him stronger, in some strange way. "But that is not all. I can't put my... finger on it," he gestured with one hand, index finger outstretched like he was pointing at something in the air, "but something is wrong."