[ aside from the tangle in his arms, she hardly seems like a burden to him. Loki keeps his footing without loss of pace, and when the ball gets too close for comfort, he crosses his ankles and leaps from a particularly sticky puddle of muck. with glowing green soles, he darts horizontally against the labyrinth wall. the beetle, now obviously a beetle as it peeks around the giant ball of feces, at the head and with no intention on slowing down. ]

What? By Ymir's frozen testicle—! These are nice boots!

[ but at the moment it looks like there's not going to be much of a choice. between Loki's loss of ability to the maze itself, and the bug threatening to squash them in poo, they're going to have to make some tough choices. ]

Ugh ... [ that sounds suspiciously like he's giving in. ] Time to get down and dirty, I suppose.

[ for the barest of moments they're at a standstill on the wall, and with another push, Loki vaults to balance precariously on the top of the ball with hardly a noise. he stands there, single-legged like a green flamingo, the other bent at the knee as the beetle halts the gross ball of shit as if in contemplation. ]

...

You know, this isn't exactly where I imagined myself with the person I love—[ there was probably going to be more to that, but the beetle begins to push the ball again and Loki lurches forward at a run, trying to keep the pace and you know, not fall one way or the other. ]