Thor's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew that others thought him a bit dim, and truthfully, he knew he wasn't as smart as some others. He knew that. But he wasn't so stupid as to not recognize the insult that was being handed to him, mild though it was. Still, as foolish as others thought he was, Thor didn't think it was all that bright to bait an angry god with a big hammer that was standing on your doorstep.
"Are you saying I'm not civilized?" The tone was quieter than he'd used when he arrived. Much quieter. Because he was doing his very best not to do what his brain was telling him to do.
There was a twitch in his arm as he struggled not to smash in the wall of her pretty little hall with Mjölnir. He shouldn't do that. Logically, he knew he shouldn't do that. But it was a struggle not to. It had been this way for a while now, since the fight with Hrungnir, since Groa had failed to remove the whetstone bits from his head. Things like this would come up, little things that most of the time wouldn't bother him, but every once in a while, it took everything he had not to give into the explosive rages that wanted to come out. And sometimes he failed at controlling them.
Today, he gritted his teeth and looked away from the pretty face in front of him, because all he could see was her smirking. He knew she wasn't. He knew that it was just barely a smile, not really a smirk, but his brain still told him that his eyes were lying and she was smirking. So he looked towards the horizon, looked at the play of sunlight on the clouds, imagining that the contours and shadows created made the thing more solid than air vapor, like giant puffs of wool that had fallen from his sister's carding combs. Then he imagined the size of the sheep that it would take to create such puffs of wool, and imagined them attempting to graze across the land, and how very silly that would look. It was the ridiculous picture that finally broke the anger that held his brain captive.
This time, he won. So this time, Freyja's home would not end up missing a wall.
"I don't want mead," he said, calmer though still quietly. "I don't even want a damn horse. I want my daughter to have all she deserves, not settle for Valhalla because her head was turned by valkyrie gossip. And don't tell me they don't do that, 'cause I've seen 'em do it, and so have you. But Thrud should have more'n that. She should have the best."