2014.02.15 - Don't Blink. Run.

Winter. That much is very certain. It's winter in New York. The snow fall is constant, cold, and seems to go on forever. The temperatures outside remain in that horrific point where it's freezing cold - with a wind chill to match - but warm enough to let those fluffy white bits of ice to billow, blow, and fall. And fall. And /fall/. It's insane for anyone to be out in it, and yet, for New Yorkers, they can't stop for a hurricane, why stop for the white stuff?

Central Park. It is here that things look almost magical. The trees are coated in snow, their limbs hanging dangerously low from the frosty weight. The ground is one sheen of white, and often hurts the eyes if the sun where out to glitter down upon it. Right now though, there isn't such a thing as the sun. It's all gray over head. Gray and wet. Snow and ice. Wind and cold. And did I mention snow?

Still, people do need to go from one place to another, and they trudge through the walk-ways that are /somewhat/ kept clear, at least they would if it would stop SNOWING.

And then again, there are those insane people that have planted themselves in the middle of a grove of trees and are chanting. Druids probably. The soft chanting is low, off key, and sounds like a bunch of cats yowling. But there you have New York.

And as for an elf..? Well. As cold as it is, this snow fall is something to enjoy, versus hate, and so - bundled up in a cloak of green, gloves, and is fairly soaking wet - upon the lawn, a figure with long magenta hair hanging down her back, is idly spinning about. Like a kid in school. Just for a moment. Just a moment. There's just something incredible about dancing in snow, and so - that's exactly what she's doing.

While druids chant a bit away from her, and ignore the mutant.

It'd been snowing a few days, and Douglas Ramsey was feeling terribly sick of the indoors. As much as he liked gaming and movies, there were certain advantages to not feeling like toadstools were growing on his butt.

Making a call to see if he could visit a friend, in the affirmative, they'd made arrangement to meet at the castle in Central Park.

Wading his way through, however, Doug slows down to listen to the chanting of the druids. There was something about the chanting, the language they were using, that made it feel more... -real- somehow. Like... like it was a True language instead of an artificial man-made one.

Brunnhilde the Valkyrie has a slightly different take on the present weather to the majority of the New Yorkers she's passed by on her way to the park, huddled into their thick jackets, heads down and generally looking miserable. True, it's a bit chilly, but for someone familiar with the icy realm of Niflheim, it's pleasantly fresh and bracing rather than bitterly cold.

She hasn't even bothered to zip up her leather jacket, walking with a purposeful stride despite the snow, her head up and her eyes bright, apparently unbothered by the snow melting on her blonde braids, dampening her hair and clothes both.

Her steps slow as she wanders through the park, though there's the sense that should she wish to walk faster, the snow would prove little impediment. The sound of chanting carries to her on the wind, and though the words and cadence are unfamiliar to her, she smiles slightly. The sound seems out of place for Midgard, as she herself is, and that amuses her a little. She lets her gaze stray in that direction, and sees the blur of green and purple dancing in the snow.

Deciding that this bears further investigation, Brunnhilde turns from her chosen path and begins to walk toward the lone reveller.

The chanting? For someone able to understand and pick up languages? Is most assuredly not just some mumbled out words of man-made nonsense. They're of an ancient language that speak of other dimensions, other places, other things, other beings of great power. And those beings of great power, in this horrific storm of ice and snow and wind? They're calling upon to enter this realm. Calling upon in raised voices of chanting, and just a little bit of something else - for if one gets close to the group, there's a single person idly directing the chant, and from his hands runs a thick, flowing green cloud that floats down from his wrists, and twists outwards to begin engulfing the others grouped around him in a circle.

As for the elf, well, she just feels silly now. Stopping her twirling and dancing to flick back the dark green hood to reveal her features to the snow, ice, wind and world. Her hair is matted against her cheeks and clothing, thick and straight and long. The strands clings to every part it touches, so damp from the snow fall and her exposure to it. If one could see her cheeks - they'd surely be pink from the chill, but instead, just seem to alter that shading of violet to an almost blue hue.

One hand idly lifts upwards to brush the widow's peak of bangs away from her eyes, luminous pools of green, to cast a gaze about the area, and as usual no one is watching. Or.. are they. A flash out of the corner of her eyes catches sight of the tall, striking blonde that doesn't appear to mind the snow either...

Meanwhile --- those green tendrils of cloud and smoke and ice have reached the chanting druids ...

That they were talking of dimensions and other spells... Intellectually, Doug Ramsey knew that there -were- such magical spells, but he hadn't really heard them until now. On a gutteral level, a basic instictive level, though, the chants sent a chill through him.

Step by step, Doug approaches the chanting, following the tune towards the leader of the chants. As if the green cloud wasn't obvious enough...

His path is, however, slowed down by a familiar figure...

"Clarice?" Doug calls, distracted from the chanting leader by the teleporting elf.

As Brunnhilde's steps draw her closer to the chanting people, and she hears the chant more clearly, she begins to feel a touch of disquiet. The words are unknown to her, but something about the intonation bothers her, sets her teeth on edge. Her eyes stray toward the druids once more, only to be drawn away once more as the dancer ceases her gyrations and throws back her hood - to reveal a complexion not commonly found in the mortals of Midgard, one more commonly found in another realm entirely.

The tips of pointed ears peeking through the dancer's hair just put the seal on the Valkyrie's suspicions, and she picks up her pace - easily kicking her way through the snow - to close in on the dancer. Halting a wary distance from the smaller figure, Brunnhilde's eyes are guarded as she opens with, "You are as far from Svartalfheim as I am from Asgard. What purpose brings you to Midgard, dark elf?" Her tone is as steady and guarded as that look in her eyes, and - despite her casual mode of dress - is that a sword-hilt poking up above her shoulder?

As a man's voice calls out across the snowy park, Brunnhilde makes a noise of annoyance and glances swiftly toward the approaching man - and sees the green cloud around the druids. Instantly her head snaps back around. "What know you of this?" She demands of the misidentified lavender elf.

As the tall, striking blonde makes her way over to Clarice, the elf pivots slightly upon her heels to address the individual, only to be at a complete and utter loss as to the words that escape the thickly ( and strangely ) accented tone. A mixture of emotions begins to play about Clarice's features, from confusion, to startled surprise, back to confusion, and finally to that parted open mouthed expression of dumb 'wha'? It would almost be comical. The blank stare that is given to the blonde, with a -sword-, is continued all through - even through a familiar voice echoing out Clarice's name. (A fact that is as odd as a tall, gorgeous blonde mistaking Clarice for some creature out of legend and myth!)

"Ah." The elf begins. "Wha." She continues. "Who." She states. "I." She stutters. "It..." She manages to get out. "Bwha..?"

/Right/ at that point, just as Clarice is able to get out no more than an utterance of nonsense and confusion, the druids all begin screaming - their voices raised in shouting sounds as the chanting reaches a climax and an enormous portal swirls to life with a *boom* of noise. It's the only thing that ceases the chanting, for the glowing tendrils of green are now gone, and within its place is that portal of sickly green.

From out of the portal six enormous figures leap to life. They're tall. Blue. Confused. But eager for the fight - at least until they spy the elf, and then. .. well.. one of their voices echoes out. "Why do you call us forth, dark elf! This is Midgard! You will /pay/ for this..! And lo! You hold court with one of Odinson's warrior maids..! DEATH TO ALL!!" And poor Clarice is left to just sigh both inwardly and outwardly.

It wasn't an easy thing, sorting this out. For one, Clarice being a dark elf? He didn't know her all that well, but it -would- explain a few things. "Uh..."

Looking back and forth between Brunnhilde and Clarice, Doug's gaze shifts from Clarice's confused befuddled look to Brunnhilde's call. "Uh, I thought she was a mut---"

Whatever else he might have been about to say was interrupted by the screams of the druids, followed by ... enormous figures. Huge, tall blue figures. Declaring... well, dark elf and valkyrie.

Gulping, Doug steps forward. << Um, pardon me...? I think there's been a misunderstanding here. She didn't summon you. I... I have no idea why there's a Valkyrie here, but I am guessing someone's about to die bravely, so I think if you want her gone, it would be in your, uh, best interests to not have anyone... die? >> And please don't let it be meeeeee.

The dark elf's flurry of expressions and confused conversational false starts do nothing to allay the Valkyrie's suspicion that she is at the heart of whatever sinister goings-on are, well, going on. She knows them to be an untrustworthy, scheming people, and as she watches the shorter woman sputter, Brunnhilde's eyes narrow. It seems to her that the dark elf is trying and failing to come up with some quick and persuasive excuse! "Speak swiftly!" Brunnhilde commands her, sternly.

As the man's voice she heard earlier comes again, this time from beside her, Brunnhilde mutters something under her breath about mortals without the sense to stay away from danger, and turns to frown down at the shorter man in some exasperation. Exasperation that turns to stunned surprise as her deathsight reveals him to be one who has clearly died - and yet still lives. Her mouth parts, though in truth she has no idea /what/ she is about to say to this apparition, when the Druids begin screaming.

Valkyrie doesn't even seem to draw her sword, she moves so fast, but the blade is clearly held before her in a confident, two-handed grip. "What fell ritual..." She manages to get out, just before the boom of the portal opening silences her. As the giants arrive, Valkyrie looks up at them, her expression turning grim. Not taking her eyes from the giants, she tilts her head toward the elf. "You see now the folly of your meddling? I know not what you intended, but they will kill you if they can." Nevertheless, Valkyrie takes a step forward, aiming to place herself squarely between the giants and the others...

...only to find that the blond man has already interceded. In the giants' own tongue. That Valkyrie speaks enough of (she's particularly fluent in insults) to pick up on. "You would turn them aside with words? Brave, but foolish. Tell me, is this how you died before?" She asks him, sounding oddly impressed, before taking a second step forward to shield him as well. "I shall not be leaving!" She calls to them in a bold, clear voice. "Go back whence you came, or I shall send you there! In pieces!"

What, one may inquire, has happened to the chanting druids and their leader during this interchange of confusion, attempted diplomacy, and spirited warrior's speech? Most of the druids are now unconscious on the snow, their bodies alive - but drained of much energy - enough to open the portal that remains shimmering to life just a few feet away from the Jotuns, the Warrior-Maid, the 'Dark Elf', and Doug. The leader is slowly getting to his feet, a startled expression written upon his bald head as he eyes the blue giant's, and then the interfering individuals. Of all the luck..! A Valkyrie had to show up! "KILL THEM!" Are his uttered (and surprisingly high pitched squeaky sounding voice).

The Jotuns pay him no heed at all. Their eyes are turned towards Doug, they are not the most intelligent of their species, they are also not of the Jotunheim that Valkyrie knows. They are pulled from an alternate dimension altogether, which is important to note. There is a momentary pause, just a moment. It might appear that Doug's words are working, as they turn to give each other a glance. But; really. They're Jotuns. They're bred of blood and ice - a warrior race that does not fear death, but embraces it. They are also /quite/ envious of the Asgardians, and considering one is there in front of them..? Taunting them with her words to /leave/ instead of fight..? Well. That just isn't going to do. Sorry.

As one they pull out huge ice coated swords, and long ice clubs from belts and their backs.

"DEATH to the Asgardian!" Is their chanting cry as two leap towards Valkyrie with their own speed, one sending his ice-axe hurdling towards her, the other his club jutting out to her mid-section. Another turns towards the human that brought them here, lumbering towards the screaming man with ill-intent upon his features. Three others split off - one heading towards Doug, the others towards the 'Dark Elf'. (Who, it might be said, is still gawking, her mouth parted open, and a witless expression of dumb-founded confusion on her features.) It's the actions of the huge giants that cause the slender elf to react, her eyes blazing now with intensity. "For the record." She states to the blonde. "While I kind of like the term 'dark elf' it sounds /ever/ so foreboding and mysterious. I'm not a dark elf. I'm a mutant. I'm an X.. I'm a.. a.. mutant!"

A portal as black as night opens up suddenly in front of Doug, as the large club of the Jotun swings towards the mutant, with a surprised sound of startled *whomp*, the Jotun's club is slammed against his own back, as another portal opens up behind him, knocking the Jotun into a stunned daze. And the elf..? She's gone from where the other two Jotuns were at, instead appearing next to Doug with a faint and soft *blink* sound.

"Oh -come-on!" Doug exclaims at the druid leader. "I'd -like- to keep Central Park in one piece!" Damn it. Why didn't Doug just stay in SHIELD? Why? WHY? It would have been more gratifying to call in a team of people to just slap them upside the head.

But by the looks the Jotuns were giving each other, Doug had that sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach that things were -not- about to turn out well, particularly with Brunnhilde's words. Trying to take a few steps back, knowing full well that he was -toast- if they got a hand on him, Doug prepares to defend himself with SHIELD techniques... and then Blink is there at once.

"... Clarice, just for the record, it's good to know you're a mutant, but... uh, can't you blink them into something like, home?" Doug murmurs. Not that he knew what Clarice's full extent of her abilities was, but... "Preferably before the Valkyrie gets violent."

Despite keeping a watchful gaze on the Jotuns, expecting them to attack without further warning, Brunnhilde catches the movement of the Druid leader as he pulls himself upright. His squeaky-voiced command just makes her glower even more forbiddingly. "YOU!" She shouts to him, shifting her sword to one hand and fixing him with an accusingly-pointed finger, "HAVE DONE /ENOUGH/! Listen to the Undying One, then take your foolish rabble and flee from this place! I shall attend to you later! AND YOU WILL NOT LIKE IT!" Brunnhilde is angry, but she'd rather not have these idiots getting themselves killed by angering the Jotuns they've just summoned.

As the Jotuns roar and leap forward, Valkyrie yells back, "NOT THIS DAY!" Although she sounds just as eager for battle as they, her eyes keenly watch their attacks before she moves - and when she does move, her actions are swift and sure. Darting forward, kicking up snow behind her, she dodges to one side and strikes out toward the ice-axe with Dragonfang, separating the haft from the head and leaving the two parts spinning harmlessly away. Distracted by that, she might be expected to be easy prey for the club, but at the last moment she launches herself into the air in a flurry of snow, clearing the club as it whistles through the air below her - and aiming a kick at the wrist of the arm swinging it.

Landing well, her head turns quickly, eyes seeking the Jotuns.

But then she hears the dark elf finally get herself together enough to form a coherent protest. Given the situation, she's astonished enough to actually look around, and notice that the young woman isn't quite so blue as she'd seemed before. "I am unconvinced." Brunnhilde tells her. "But be that as it may, we face Jotuns. Fight if you can, flee if you cannot!" And then she lowers her shoulder and charges into the melee, aiming for the Jotun she hopes is still off-balance from his club-swing.

Turning luminous green eyes onto Doug, Clarice's features draw into a slight smile. "Actually, she did give them fair warning, which the giant creatures completely and utterly ignored and attacked anyway. /And/ she's awesome. Look at how she moves! Man, Mister Creed couldn't have done better." The name drop is accidental, though the elf's still grinning like a kid in school. "She's a Valkyrie! Like from the legends! An actual /warrior-maid/. Like .. like from the books!" And those soft, green, luminous eyes dance with delight as she fan-girls on the Asgardian. "Wow. Just.. just..And I have no idea where they call home Mister Ramsey! None at all. I don't think they're from Earth, are they?"

The two Jotuns that were initially startled by the disappearance of their foe, are now running towards Doug and Clarice with intent upon their steps, and war in their eyes. They're moving so fast, they fail to notice a large portal opening up before them, and they go through with a startled sound of surprise, their momentum charging them forward again through the opposite end of the portal, as the two stumble through the glowing green portal, disappearing within.

"Two down." Clarice offers with an impish grin towards Doug. "I haven't had this much fun since we stopped the culling in Cleveland, before it even began." The Jotun that attacked Doug initially begins to stir, his great club coming upwards, only to find himself falling through a same, inky black portal, and stumbling /back into/ the green swirling vortex that is beginning to diminish ever so swiftly from existence.

The druid that is shouting? Takes Valkyrie's advice and begins running away from the Jotun that is coming towards him, the other druids stirring slightly to raise upwards and as consciousness drifts in..? Do the same. Things didn't go quite as they thought.

As for the two upon Valkyrie, the one with his axe destroyed stumbles slightly to one side, the roars out his displeasure, moving to pummel his ice fists towards Valkyrie - aiming to catch hold of her and freeze her upon his ice contact. The other's wrist is slammed by Valkyrie's kick, as the club launches out of his hands, and he stumbles backwards unable to do much else right now.

"She is... and they're probably from Jotunheim, if I remember my mythology right," Doug replies, sticking close to Blink. Right, there were six of them. Two down, one about to be dealt with, two going after Valkyrie... "Look out!"

... where was the sixth? Wait... hm. "Can you teleport me?"

Because if that was a yes, well... the plan would be relatively simple, as he relays it quickly and briefly.

Basic notion: teleport a portal below Doug so that he's falling with some velocity, then open a portal around the sixth giant's neck with the momentum of a fall.

Having given her instructions to the young woman who's probably not a dark elf after all (but still might be!), Valkyrie considers herself free to get stuck into the fight. Even though she knows that if the woman /is/ a dark elf she'll be working her own angle, and if she's a mortal... well, based on Brunnhilde's experience to date, if she's a mortal she'll probably get herself into as much trouble as she can as soon as the Valkyrie's back's turned!

Added to which, it appears that the blond man hasn't had the good sense to flee, since he's now shouting advice to her! Amused and exasperated all at once, Brunnhilde throws up an arm to block the Jotun's first blow - and clamps her teeth together to stifle a scream that would shame her as her leather jacket provides no protection against the Jotun's bitingly cold hand as it closes around her forearm. "Useless Midgardian...!" She grinds out, even as she balls the fist of her free hand and strikes up, hard, right into the Jotun's elbow joint. Snapping a kick into his opposite knee, feeling the cold seeping through her and beginning to slow her, she twists around, dragging his injured arm down, and throwing all her strength into an attempt to heave him over her shoulder and pitch him at his compatriot! "YAH!" She yells, in effort and defiance.

The portal beneath Doug allows him to crunch down upon the Jotun's neck. The impact is like a battering ram, sending a great deal of power into the giant's neck, knocking him to the ground. However, it is also important to note, they are creatures of /ice/ and /snow/. They're cold. Damn cold. And that cold is going to seep right through the shoes Doug wears swiftly enough. Still, the Jotun does drop to the ground, and is now slow to get up. Slowly. Slowly. But rise, the giant is trying to do.

As for Valkyrie - her trick is not only successful, but quite so, as the giant is pitched over her shoulder and slams into his companion. (Who was just now moving to assist with the Asgardian.) Both go tumbling into the snow, crashing with loud *thuds*, as snow and ice fly in all directions as two giants tumble legs over heads into the soft ground.

As Doug and Valkyrie work, the sickly green portal begins to get dimmer and dimmer, and the Elf..? Clarice? She's taking note of this. It's going to be gone soon. Too soon. And with it, any chance of these giants getting sent back to their own home. A fact that does not settle well with Clarice. Compassion for giants? Or maybe just a desire to not have them on the Earth. Regardless. Swirling black portals open beneath the two Jotuns that are trying to untangle themselves (from themselves), and the two tumble into the green portal, the last one - is a bit trickier, given Doug's still attached. "Mister Ramsey, please remove yourself from the giant creature! Else you wish to end up in their realm..!" The yell is given with enough time before the same trick is placed upon it, as the others. Hopefully, not without Doug Ramsey attached.

To Valkyrie - Clarice turns then, her eyes almost glowing as she addresses the warrior. "I apologize for removing your foes, but the portal back to their realm was closing, and I did not think they should remain."

When Kitty had occasionally called Doug a pain in the neck, she probably didn't mean it quite -literally-. Nonetheless... c-c-cold. Cold feet, knee-deep into the Frost Giant's neck. Scrambling, kicking free, Doug curses, managing to get one foot free just enough to ... sink another foot into the Giant's back as he pulls the other foot out.

"Clarice!" Doug calls out as he dangles for a second before the snow around his last foothold gives way and he falls...

Though probably not fast enough, at least there was -plenty- of snow around. At least hopefully he was far enough out of range...

Flinging Jotuns around isn't easy, even when you're an Asgardian! Brunnhilde staggers forward a couple of steps after launching her opponent, but recovers her balance quickly enough to enjoy the sight of him crashing into his fellow. She looks particularly satisfied by the heap they end up in, even as she's flexing her half-frozen hand and rubbing at her forearm with the other, Dragonfang spiked into the frozen ground beside her. She's about ready to look for new opponents when the portals open beneath her original two, and Brunnhilde's eyes go wide. Twisting around, she sees more portals deliver the Jotuns back through the quite different one that brought them here. It seems that the battle is ending, until Brunnhilde hears the lavender elf's alarmed shout.

She takes in the situation in a single glance, realising that while the man may remove himself from the Jotun in time, he may yet fall through the portal beneath! She doesn't hesitate. Leaving Dragonfang where it is, Brunnhilde sprints forward, snow thrown left and right as she storms through it, and throws herself forward in a powerful leap! Her shoulder taking the man in the midriff, her impact bears him past the dangers of the Jotun and the portal beneath, and she even manages to land in a jarring three-point crouch. Rising back to her feet, the man still across her shoulder, Brunnhilde takes a couple of breaths, willing her blood to stop singing the song of battle within her, and walks back toward the elf. "Found your tongue at last?" She asks with a smile, eyes gleaming. "You are right. They do not belong here. But you, I think, do. My apologies for mistaking you for that which you are not." She reaches out a hand to grasp the other woman's, if she is willing. "I am Brunnhilde, first of the Allfather's Valkyrior..." She begins, before remembering something. "...and this, I believe, is yours." She sets the man on his feet, and transfers her gaze to him. "You fought bravely. And you are an interesting one. You and I shall speak again." She says this as if it's an accomplished fact, rather than an option.

Making a slight face - Clarice hadn't really thought Doug was stuck to the Jotun, and is feeling a tad bit bad at having to watch the heroics from the Valkyrie. Not only /a/ Valkyrie - but THE Valkyrie. Wow. An apology will be given to Doug - after Clarice clasps the hand with her own slim fingers. "It is an honor to meet you." The elf gushes, realizes she's gushes and frankly just doesn't care. IN THE LEAST. "And .. sorry Mister Ramsey, I didn't realize you were stuck to the giant." If lavender skin can flush with embarrassment, it's doing so now. So much to learn..!

To Valkyrie - who frankly in the elf's opinion is now the most fascinating thing in this world. As. Well. She's like a GODDESS...or something. "I'm Clarice Ferguson." She starts. Pauses. Then starts again. "Blink." As though that word has some meaning. "I have never met an actual Asgardian before. It's an honor to meet you." She repeats herself. Either not realizing she's stated such, or is just completely gobsmacked. Regardless - Clarice offers a quiet smile again. If she had an autograph book, it'd be out, with pen in hand. As she doesn't, Clarice can only pause, realize she's gushing. More. And shake her lavender hair - as the snow continues to fall gently around them. "Th..Thank you again."

He hadn't been stuck long enough for frostbite, but it was definitely time to keep blood circulating in his feet, as Doug nods at Clarice. "No worries," he reassures, offering a small smile that was at least conveying -some- discomfort, as he keeps his feet moving after being set down.

"Um... thanks," he offers to Brunnhilde, a bit sheepishly. "I didn't realize they were basically animated snowmen. Uh... " Wrinkling his nose, Doug asks tremulously, rubbing his hands together as it suddenly got a lot more chillier. "No offense, but I really hope I don't see you again." There was a brief pause as Doug eyes Clarice, then looks around, before venturing a question. "... Um. Who're you supposed to be guiding to Valhalla?"

Brunnhilde is pleased that Clarice hasn't taken offence at being accused of being a dark elf, and that she clasps her hand - and since Clarice is /not/ a dark elf, Brunnhilde does her best to keep her grip light. It's probably still pretty firm, though. Brunnhilde finds herself smiling as Clarice, now that she's able to speak, seems unable to stop. "We fought a common foe, which you had the greater part of vanquishing." Brunnhilde says gently, attempting to put the lavender one at her ease and probably failing miserably. "There is enough honour to go around." She adds reassuringly.

As Clarice's attention switches to the man she tackled and back again, Brunnhilde nods gravely. "Clarice Ferguson, who is known as Blink. I shall remember your name." The sober look dissolves as she grins back at the young woman. "And so you have said. Take a deep breath, Clarice Ferguson. To aid you was my pleasure." She gives a firm nod as she says that, just for emphasis.

And then there's the matter of the man who should be dead. "You too are welcome." She tells him, and then laughs at his words, shaking her head. "Is that why you have not offered your name?" She asks with a knowing look, holding his gaze when he asks his question for a moment, before relenting. "Be at peace, I have not come for you. Not this day. I walk Midgard as much in the service of the living as the dead."

"... Um, yes. No offense," Doug smiles sheepishly, keeping his hands behind his back. "I've already been dead once, I don't want a repeat experience, thank you."

There was a brief pause, as he regards Brunnhilde. "Though, uh... are there like, Valkyries who lead the dead back to the living?"

Running a hand through his hair, Doug's further thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his cell phone ringing. "Oh... man," Doug groans, as he picks up the phone, and answers. "Um... I'll... you know what, I'm fine with not knowing. Thanks. I've got somewhere to be, I'm late." He starts to run off, pauses, and calls to Clarice, "Oh, I've got your cord fixed. Give me a call later and we'll get something going. And uh..." He eyes Valkyrie. "Just don't call me, of offense, thanks." Smiling sheepishly, Doug flees.