Thor takes a few swigs of whiskey as he watches the captain try and fail to so much as budge the hammer from its rest, a warm nostalgic glow somewhere deep in his chest, the pain of it muffled by drink and a little time. It seems like only last year the Avengers were all gathered together, competing to see who could lift Mjolnir from the tower’s coffee table, good-natured teasing all around. If he lives five thousand years, he hopes that memory never fades, perhaps the last moment of peace he’d known before the spiral downward to Ragnarok and what came after.

That was a good day, Ultron notwithstanding.

He tunes back in when Kirk starts muttering to himself though, shaking himself free of the memory and leaning forward again a little, raising his eyebrows. “Why not try, and find out?” he says innocently. It won’t work, of course. Not when it’s a person trying to lift it. Automatons like the hypothetical elevator? Perhaps. Stark and Steve had never had time to test that theory before he’d left, casting their doubts on Vision’s worthiness, if he counted as machine or man. For Thor, he has no doubts on the matter. Vision was no mere machine, and if ever an android could have a soul, Vision did.