Jane Foster was equally happy for Thor upon hearing he had found Mjölnir.
Faced with Thor's request, Jane agreed without hesitation:
"No problem! I'll go get the car keys right away—"
Before she could finish, Erik Selvig suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the shadow of a pickup truck.
"Are you crazy, Jane? That guy's clearly unstable! Thor's hammer, Asgard… that's mythology!"
He lowered his voice, his gray eyebrows furrowed.
Jane pulled her hand free, straightened her wrinkled shirt cuffs, and said with quiet firmness:
"Eric, I know you're worried—but believe me, Thor really is just… like a lost big kid. Not dangerous."
Selvig sighed in frustration. "Jane, if a handsome stranger got hit by your car, refused compensation, and asked to move into your house—how would you feel?"
Jane glanced shyly toward Thor, who stood not far away, and whispered:
"He's fallen for me."
"What if it were me—an old, overweight man who skips showers—hit by your car, refusing payment, and moving in?"
"He'd be clinging to me!" Jane snapped, instantly glaring at Selvig.
Selvig pressed on: "What if a handsome guy obsessed with fairy tales kept touching you inappropriately?"
"Innocent and carefree~"
"And if I—old, fat, obsessed with myths—kept touching you inappropriately?"
"Perverted groper!"
"…" ×2
Silence fell between them.
After a long pause, Jane approached Thor, crestfallen.
"I'm sorry, Thor… I might not be able to go with you to retrieve the hammer. I…"
Before she could finish, Thor burst into hearty laughter. His azure eyes held no resentment.
"Jane, don't trouble yourself. The kindness you've shown this stranger in a foreign land has already warmed my heart. I can handle the rest alone."
He took her right hand and pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckles—an old Asgardian courtesy.
Jane blushed instantly, her pulse racing beneath his fingertips.
As Thor straightened, a strand of golden hair brushed her nose. He said warmly:
"Once I regain my power, I will take you to the Golden Halls of Asgard—to see the most beautiful aurora in the Nine Realms."
Jane opened her mouth but only managed a breathy syllable.
By the time she blinked, his tall figure was already striding down the road, long hair rippling in the wind like a knight of legend.
---
Thirty minutes later, in the garage of the observatory base.
"Damn it!" ×2
Selvig and Darcy Lewis stared at the empty space where Jane's SUV had been.
Selvig fumed: That blond oaf! Not only did he charm my colleague, but he even tried to pay for the "will-o'-the-wisp" research with Asgardian gold!?
Darcy muttered: "Unreal. Jane actually ditched data analysis for a guy who thinks goats are emotional support animals?!"
---
Meanwhile…
Thor pushed open the glass door of a pet shop. A bell chimed.
The shop assistant looked up—and nearly dropped her clipboard. Before her stood a golden-haired, blue-eyed Adonis built like a Viking statue.
"Welcome!" she chirped, cheeks flushing as she hurried over. "We have Ragdolls, Corgis, and a new Lop-eared rabbit…"
Thor scanned the cages, frowning.
"I need a large, sturdy mount—something with endurance. Goats, perhaps?"
The assistant's smile froze. She took a step back, clutching her badge.
"Sir… this is a pet store. And I really think people shouldn't… well, shouldn't!"
Confused, Thor opened his mouth—but was cut off by sharp honking outside.
Beep beep!
He turned. Parked at the curb was Jane's white SUV. She leaned out the window, brown hair dancing in the breeze, lips curled in a knowing smirk.
"Hey, big guy! Need a ride?"
Thor's gloom vanished. He strode to the vehicle, the door groaning as he swung it open.
"My friend—don't you have important work?"
Jane tapped the steering wheel, eyes drifting sideways.
"Eh… data can wait. Hammer's more urgent." She grinned. "Where to?"
Thor pointed toward the vast Gobi Desert, sunlight glinting in his hair.
"Fifty miles northwest."
Jane glanced in the rearview mirror—the flustered clerk now a speck at the shop entrance.
"So… what were you trying to buy back there?"
"A mount! But I think she misunderstood."
---
Just as the SUV vanished around the bend, Damian stepped from the alley shadows.
He hailed a battered yellow taxi, its frame still caked in last night's mud.
"Where to?" the driver asked, rolling down his window. His bald head gleamed, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from chapped lips.
Damian slid into the back. "Follow that white SUV. Don't be seen."
"What did you say!?" The driver whipped around—the cigarette tumbling onto his jeans, scorching a hole. His eyes widened. "Twenty years I've driven in New Mexico… and finally someone says it!"
Before Damian could react, the driver slammed a fist onto a dashboard panel disguised as an AC vent.
CRACK—VROOM!
The taxi transformed: seats locked around passengers, chassis dropped, blue flame erupted from the exhaust.
"Hold on!!" the driver roared, kicking open floor panels to reveal a nitrous pedal.
"Time to show you the real 'Speedy Microphone'!!"
Damian was slammed into his seat as the world blurred into streaks of color. Three radar screens flared on the dash, l
ocking onto the SUV two kilometers ahead.
"Big brother, I was wrong!! STOP THE CAR!!!" Damian wailed through the G-force.
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