It's finally starting to hit Thor. At least a little. Between the two of them, they've probably cleared out a significant part of the bar's stores already, and while there was a significant chunk of it still laying on the bed, there was a decent enough amount inside of Thor's stomach for him to stumble right out of the tipsy category and straight into the slightly drunk category.

"No, no, no, no, no," Thor insists. "You're great. Hela's the terrible one. I'd take like --" Thor pauses for a second, trying to conjure up a number. "-- six dozen of you over one Hela."

Probably more than six dozen, but that's the first number that came to mind.

"She's the worst," Thor proclaims, finishing the bottle.

And she the worst because their father shaped her that way.