Ice? In alcohol? No true Asgardian would be caught dead watering down his spirits, with the exception of that truly appalling novelty wine that made an appearance at Fandral's birthday feast about three hundred years ago. Positively undrinkable in its full strength. None of them had let Volstagg live down bringing it for about eighty years.

Besides, Thor can just imagine how appalled Stark would be. ("That's what whiskey stones are for," he'd said once, as if it were obvious.) But then, maybe his opinion on this particular matter isn't one that Thor should be taking into account anyway.

"Straight, always." Thor unscrews the cap from the jar and takes a whiff of its contents. Yep, that's alcohol, all right, pure and strong. "I'm Thor, son of Odin. Though I think you already knew that," he says, casting a sidelong look at Cricket, his own glint of amusement in his eye.