Thor mused and Steve found himself nodding along, the fact of Bucky’s presence in the hotel one that had become one that more or less defined the whole of his stay. He had heard so much about the doors that studded the walls of the place and led to worlds he could not have touched in any other way, and yet he had held himself back from every doorway for fear of crossing into some place that his friend could not follow. He had sought out as much of the man’s time as he could manage without raising suspicions, and hated every second he hid the truth from the same man who he had known nearly all his life, who had been with him every step of the way and who had never failed to have his back. Whether it had been a back alley in Brooklyn, or through a sniper scope in Switzerland.

“He seems…bored, actually.” It was said not without humor, as Steve could never not smile even a little when he thought of his friend and the distinctive pout on his face while he was stuck drinking and flirting with every woman he came across (although Steve was sure he hated that). Even as he himself worked to memorize every detail, every expression, every drawl of the other man’s voice in knowing how soon he would lose him again, the joy of being around his friend once more overwhelmed all else. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, Thor,” he confessed after a moment. “What I’m supposed to tell him. Whether I should stay.”

The reference before to Loki having come before New York had him asking aloud, “Have you told your brother? What happens?”