[ the thought of Dany with an overgrown stick is enough for a little breathy chuckle to come from his throat, followed by a puff of air through his nose. ]

Oh? Maybe I'll rethink my strategy to incorporate your batting arm. [ but his eyes aren't on her, they're on the flat wall in front of them that turns the corner. he can hear it as well as she does, and while he doesn't see much as a threat (not much is, when you're a god), his senses are open. the air around them, the scent, the steady vibrations that compose the song of reality, he knows it all, and he uses it well enough.

there's a pause that is the barest hold of a breath, and then turning the corner is a stinking boulder with an unseen master. Loki gawks, he tries not to, but he does. it rolls toward them with a sick, slapping noise of feces against stone. their only saving grace is that it seems to have grown so large that it hardly fits down the corridor. is that a saving grace? ]

... Ah—[ Loki starts, rethinks this, then adds. ]—shit.

...

Shall we go? Er, let's go.

[ before she can answer he's taking her arm as if they were going for a stroll and turning on their heels in the muck. ]

Don't look back. It'll lose interest if we don't pay attention.

[ it doesn't, and when it begins to speed toward them, Loki speeds up the pace to a run. ]