A battlemage? Thor blinks and perks up a little at that in interest. This man is a warrior such as Loki had attempted to be, wielding seidr more deftly than a blade, though Asgard had had little place for such men. He has a thousand questions to ask, but they're all muddling up in his head before they can get to his tongue, and before he can voice a single one he's dragged back on topic. Oh yes, the hammer!

He's more than willing to demonstrate his ability to lift Mjolnir when others cannot, a secret thrill bubbling up in him every time the hammer proves to him that he is still worthy. It is an affirmation, a joy, that he may never tire of. A fond smile is on his lips even once he sets it down again, immobile to any hand but his.

He doesn't notice the wary look on the battlemage's face either, curious to see what solutions the man might come up with. What he hears makes him chuckle, raising his own glass to take another drink. "I didn't cast it, so I dunno how it works. Worth a try, I guess." Even to his drunken thoughts, though, it can't possibly be that easy. Thor is strong, yes, but if Mjolnir was truly that heavy, he would have noticed.

He hopes, anyway.