Collapsed on the side of the bed, Thor slumped up against the mattress and all the accouterments with no real regard for the mistreatment of their quality. Under his full weight, they had creaked and groaned before settling and supporting him though it felt flimsy. Everything in the Capitol felt fragile and breakable as if it were all made from decorated glass, perfect and beautiful but requiring finesse and care to maintain. Finesse had been a concept lost on Thor at birth, all brawn and bravado, but it hadn't missed his adoptive brother if all of this could speak and attest to that. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Loki could have been able to escape the trappings of the Capitol if things had turned out differently.
Not that hope meant a damn thing anymore.
Beside him on the plush carpeting laid his emptied flask, all its contents drained over the course of the party if it could be called such. Whatever had been left in it had been finished up in this room, this pristine room in this pristine house in this pristine city that Thor hated for so many reasons. No matter how quickly things moved out of style, there was a distinctiveness to all of it, something that didn't go away when one particular artist or piece of furniture lost its edge and newness. There was a way all of these houses were crowded with stolen memories, useless things that were more pretty than functional. Looking around these places when he was unfortunate enough to need to be here, he only remembered the three years he had been forced to stay here, when walls and colors like this were a prison, poisoned by greed and lust and pride. It almost made him sick.
The brewing hangover didn't help either.
His hands were cold as he pressed them to his face, and the chill of his fingertips tried its best to stave off the oncoming headache. The usual remedy was the old hair of the dog, but everything he had brought with him, which included the bottles of moonshine he lived off of, were all in some rented house where he was always put up when required to attend things in the Capitol. In this state, he doubted he could remember the address, let alone the path to get there and attempting to leave meant trying to escape his brother's attention, an impossible feat in his best moments. Stumbling like he would now certainly would prevent him an easy retreat, though it seemed he lost his battle before it begun. The firm rap on the door served to emphasize the futile nature of that fleeting thought.
"For what," he replied, voice rumbling and unsteady and tired. Thor doubted there was any lock in this house that Loki could not open, though Thor had never been too fond of locking doors. His mother had always left their door open and welcoming and even now, Thor never thought to lock his. Old habits were hard to kill.