"I like some of them," he tells her quietly, by way of explanation. He's not used to feeling fondness any longer. "I did not think I had that left in me, but in Asgard, when I listened to the people mourn for me, it made me feel..."

He trails off, looking for a word, and then realizes none is necessary. "It made me feel."

Sitting back on his heels, he looks up at her, more than a little broken but clear-eyed and calm again. "I was never clear on what you saw in me, actually." He tells her with that tragicomic smile of his. "But I have chosen a path and I will walk it to the end. To spite Thanos, and perhaps to give aid to those who would be his victims, without intervention."

"I'm tired," he admits, smile dropping away. "I'm very tired. I wish I could go back to when the stakes were lower, and mischief could be just that."

A game, not a gambit for survival. "But it means something to know that you, at least, can still think kindly of me. Even after everything."