That’s it. No more walking. He’s going to get a Thor for his birthday and ride around in style.

Clint can tell he’s getting to the point of delirium, which does not bode well for him to hold fast to anything. He does his best, fingers wrapped around Thor’s shirt. Hopefully he doesn’t catch any of that long Loriel hair.

Then again, would Thor even feel it?

“Do you have a scalp of steel too?” he yells into the wind. It’s not important, but it speaks volumes to his general state of exhaustion.

Maybe Thor had been right. Red Wine fixed blood loss after all?