Summary: 'Horses aren't ruminants', and other random facts garnered during movie night when it's Clint's turn to choose.


Thor frowned at the TV screen. "Do your people frequently use motorcycles in battle?"

"Not really," Clint said. "I mean, not anymore." He glanced at Steve. "They did in World War II, right?"

Steve nodded. "Germans especially. Allies did too, just not as much in combat. But you couldn't really beat them for scouting."

A motorcycle flipped onto its side and sent the man riding it skittering to his doom over a cliff. The movie was an exercise in the ridiculous, but it had been Clint's turn to choose, and the alternative he'd put on offer was Sharknado. (Bruce had accused him of picking Sharknado as choice number two specifically to be assured they'd watch the other one instead. Clint hadn't denied the accusation.)

"They seem prone to causing the deaths of those riding them," Thor said.

"Yeah, it's a hazard," Steve admitted. He had a handful of kettle corn. "But the movies play it up a bit too."

Tony said, "So what do Asgardians ride into battle?"

"Æsir," Thor corrected. Tony rolled his eyes. "We ride horses when the battle is on land and involves ground forces. We have skiffs we use for air battles."

"Skiffs?" Natasha looked up over the edge of her tablet at Thor. (She was barely paying attention to the movie.) "So you have boats that fly?"

Thor nodded. Tony, meanwhile, looked unimpressed.

"Horses. Really." He sounded unimpressed too. "Isn't that a little old fashioned for an advanced race?"

Thor shrugged. "They can be ridden or draw chariots, they are themselves quite formidable in battle, and are not incapacitated without a rider if correctly trained." Another motorcycle rider met a gruesome fate. He gestured at the screen. "These things cannot be said of your 'motorcycles'."

"Yeah, but motorcycles don't need full housing and daily exercise and eat like h—like large ruminants. And they're a hell of a lot easier to ship wherever you need them to be."

"Horses aren't ruminants," Maria said absently. She was mostly ignoring the film as well, in favor of her phone. "They're monogastric."

Natasha frowned. "How do they digest the cellulose then?"

"A pouch in their large intestine."

"Huh." Natasha went back to her tablet. Tony waved a hand dismissively.

"Whatever. They're still a lot more work to take care of than a Harley."

"Their care is not a major inconvenience for us," Thor said. "The Bifröst sends them where they must go, and we do not struggle to provide for them."

Tony sighed and shook his head. "Seems like an enormous waste of resources."

"You must remember, Stark, our people do not number so great as yours. There are far fewer Æsir in Asgard than humans upon Earth." Thor's mouth twitched in a teasing smile. "I suppose you would find the boars preferred by the Ljósálfar even worse."

Tony almost choked on his beer. "I'm sorry, what? Boars?"

Sam raised his eyebrows at Thor. "Boars?" he echoed.

"Yes. They prefer them to horses for their tusks. They're renowned for their intelligence, but can be quite vicious. This is why Asgard has never used them."

Tony was starting to look worried. "They don't really ride boars."

Rhodes, on the other hand, was curious. "How big are these boars, exactly?"

"They are not so long-bodied as a horse, but of a similar height, and thicker." Thor tilted his head. "About the size of some of your cattle, with stronger backs."

Tony was staring at Thor. "This is some kind of joke, right?" Thor threw his head back and laughed.

"Why would I say such things in jest?"

"Because I don't know anything about your planet—"

"Realm."

"—homeworld, and you can tell me whatever you feel like and since you have a magic space hammer and can control the weather and haven't given me a plausible Earth explanation for either, I sort of have to take it on faith."

"And you think I would use this to mock you?"

"Yes."

Thor placed a hand on his chest and made a visible effort to rein in his amusement. "Friend Stark, you wound me with such an accusation." Rhodes and Steve laughed; Sam tried not to.

Tony squinted at Thor. "It's not real, is it. They don't use enormous boars. They use machines."

"The Ljósálfar are not inclined to use machines except where they must. Some of their weapons—and Asgard's—are living constructs, it's true. But they would not use them for riding."

Rhodes sobered and said, "Living constructs?"

"Coming up on a good part, guys," Clint warned them.

"I doubt that," Steve said, and Clint threw a piece of popcorn at him.

Thor nodded at Rhodes. "Yes. Similar to automatons, but with an intelligence to drive their actions."

Tony leaned forward. "You actually have sentient robots on Asgard."

"Robots." Thor said the word like he was turning it over in his mind. "Is this what you call them? A strange term." He took a long drink of his beer. "Living constructs are sentient, yes. Automatons are not."

"So, how do you give them sentience? I mean how does that work? Do you have some kind of special programming language to—"

"Stop talking," Clint said. He indicated the screen with his bowl of popcorn. "We're now at the good part."

"We wouldn't want to miss the good part," Natasha murmured. Clint nudged her with his foot, and she grabbed some Chex mix out of Bruce's bowl and threw it at him. Clint batted it aside, which sent a mini-pretzel into Tony's beer.

Tony shot Clint an ugly look and set his glass on the table. Clint shrugged an apology. Tony pointed at Thor, Rhodes, and himself in turn, then nodded meaningfully.

Thor smiled and turned his attention back to the movie.