As if it hadn't been enough already. As if the fog, the beasts and the drained manner in which his strength carried him had not been enough to satisfy them. Now? There's heat. Not merely the blaze of a summer's day, but temperatures that threatened to melt the entire arena to the ground. The house wasn't safe anymore. If they weren't safe, Thor could be certain others were in an even worse state. Their numbers were already thinning with the loss of Natasha, a loss Thor could feel through the remains of their group, their only choice was to move onward in the hopes of finding a shelter immune to the blistering heat.

So here they are, three men looking more bedraggled than the cast of a Hangover movie, trekking through the heat as best they can. Thor eyes Stark and his burdens wearily, but he doesn't want to make it too obvious that he's watching over him, so his gaze occasionally shifts to Steve to make sure he's as reliable as he's proven himself to be. And he is. "I've had baths warmer than this." He mutters, trying to fool his ego into thinking this is nothing. Unfortunately, he can't fool himself into thinking he didn't hear a rustle in the distance, he's sure it was audible enough for the others to hear it too. He pauses, glancing around curiously, his hand gripping that wrench just a little tighter.