Her unaffected tone leveled his own heated response, and Thor found himself switching from sharp accusation to an expression that was once again simply pained. He was anticipating a remark of equal fervor; but she gave him nothing to fight now. Nothing to latch onto. It was an uncommon reaction; as most would respond to fire with fire. He was used to that, he wanted that. It was all he really knew. He was meant for battle, not for the complex ache of an emotion he had no experience with. Her calm compassion threw him entirely off guard, for all that he had no idea what to do with it.
He shifted his weight and turned back to the fire; giving a slight nod at her explanation. Of course she had not heard until recently. For whatever reason, Idun and Sif had never had a friendship beyond polite conversation. Idun couldn't have known of his wife's actions any sooner than they had been revealed to Thor himself. He had shouted accusations at Idun without thought, and yet somehow she did not immediately take offense to it.
He stood in front of the hearth as though he could direct his anger into the flames and somehow be cleansed of it; free of it's toxic pull. Unfortunately, it really didn't work like that.
Thor was not surprised that Bragi had told her, and though he wished it was information that could be kept private indefinitely, for all that it humiliated him; no part of him felt a bitterness towards his brother for doing so. If anyone was to speak on his behalf about events that had come to pass, Thor trusted Bragi implicitly. Even when those events were incredibly painful. Bragi never spoke carelessly; and it seemed now, neither did Idun. Her question about leaving brought his attention back to where she sat.
"No, I' m not sending you out into the cold again. Stay and warm up." He brought his hand up in protest, answering sternly.
He added after a moment, "I'm not pleasant company right now." It was as much of an apology as he was capable of. He was still so filled with restless energy, that the thought of standing there and having to verbally communicate was an impossible concept. So for a while he said nothing; speaking only in unconscious mannerisms. His chest rose and fell heavily with unsteady breaths. Fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Putting too much force into turning the logs in the fireplace. He didn't know what else to say to her. What did she want? What had she expected to happen, in coming here? His head was a mess of violent and spiteful thoughts, and she didn't deserve to have any of that unburdened upon her.