“Oh, he taught me not to trust him. He taught me that over, and over, and over.” There’s an equal weary sadness in Thor’s voice as he admits this: hints at all the many times he’d been betrayed and pranked and fooled and embarrassed, in ways both minor and major, petty and devastating. It had taken too long for him to stop hoping. He had felt dense for it; betrayed, for the way his heart was too large and he perpetually extended a hand of friendship to Loki, only to have it bitten to the bone.

Have you truly learned a lesson if you do the same thing again?

“But then, in the end, I took the lesson and I no longer trusted him,” he says. “The last time he tried to betray me, I was ready for it. The irony is, I truly believe we were on better terms after that point. He tried to be better, after that.”

Thor fidgets in his heavy ceremonial armour. And amongst all the heavy emotions of this particular day, an Asgardian funeral with this very peculiar funeral-crasher, a thought does occur to him:

“So, yes, I did learn it was dangerous to trust my brother. But wasn’t rule one that you are not a Loki?”