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[Gene turns on the feed and is about to speak. He opens his mouth to say something, and then, quite suddenly - there is a large amount of snow coating his hair. And half the inside of his suite. Among the snow is a vast collection of random junk, including some Angry Birds robots and other things people may recognize as once belonging to an absentee trickster god.

Also there's a bloodhound. A bloodhound which is rolling around in the snow and saying indistinct things about entrails and murder. Standard stuff, really, for a bloodhound.

Gene closes his mouth, whatever he was about to say forgotten in the wake of this new fuckery. He looks back, taking in the scene behind him for a good five seconds, and turns back to the camera, his face a mask of utter, dangerous calm.]

Loki...

[He takes a deep breath. The mask of calm shatters when he yells:]

...what the fuck?!

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[Gene nods.] Of course - I was trying to prevent him from setting any more-- [And got a burned shoulder to show for it.

As someone who has utter mastery of the elements with the rings on, fire didn't bother Gene too much. He would have armored up by now, but Amelia and May were coming, and the rings would raise far more questions than he was prepared to deal with right now. He follows Amelia's lead and scoops some snow onto a burning chair. Singe marks on it show that he's had to put this one out before.]

Understood, but he's not setting fires at the moment. We'll deal with the problems one at a time.

[Working quickly, the small fires are soon extinguished, barring the dog starting up any more in the interim. Content with the result, Amelia puts her hands on her hips, and turns to the offending dog.]

Now then, let's have a look at you- [And almost as if on cue, the dog barks out a declaration of dismemberment and sets alight a curtain.] Blast!

[She hurries to smother the flames; their previous efforts have left a dwindling amount of snow to use, with most having melted into pools of water on the floor.]

Bad! [Gene shouts at the dog, as if it'll make a difference - that's what you're supposed to do when dogs do stuff like pee on the floor or set your house on fire, right? - before running to the kitchen to get some water. There's a small pail that he fills from the sink, and manages to soak the curtain enough to stop the progress of the fire.

Eventually, the curtains go out. They're ruined, of course, but they're no longer on fire, at least. Thori is sitting in the middle of the room, having the gall to wag his tail, and looking very pleased with himself.]

[Amelia sidesteps when Gene arrives with the water bucket; she has no interest in becoming soaked herself. She keeps a cautious eye on it until the flames are extinguished.]

Right then, I think it's high time we dealt with this mongrel properly.

[Thori, unfortunately, shows no inclination towards being dealt with, and bolts towards the kitchen when Amelia approaches him. She scowls after the pup.]

This dog is more trouble than he's worth.

You're telling me, [Gene says with an exasperated glance at his ruined suite. Scowling, he chases the dog into the kitchen.]

Come here, you little--!

[Amelia moves to follow Gene, but pauses and glances at the ruined curtain. A soaking, ruined mess, it's of no use any more for its intended purpose. She grabs the edge and yanks it down, taking it with her into the kitchen.]

You'll have to forgive my pulling this down,[she comments offhandedly,] but we're going to need something to catch that mutt with.

[She scans the kitchen.] Now, where is that creature hiding?

[Thori has scrabbled up onto the counter, and is currently staring Gene down and muttering something about destroying the cat. Gene is stalking the hellhound, attempting to circle it slowly, when it jumps at him.

And uses his burned shoulder as a springboard.

Gene flinches away, clutching his now-bleeding as well as burned shoulder and swearing in Chinese.] Gǒu niáng yǎng de! [Accurate.]

[Amelia stares in puzzlement as Gene barks out a unfamiliar phrase. It's no language she's ever heard, but asking about it is not a pressing concern for her. She tears a strip off the damaged curtain and offers it to the boy.]

Patch yourself up with that. [Her greater concern is with the beast, whose mutterings about killing her have not gone unnoticed. She pursues it to a corner, preparing to ensnare the animal within the remaining curtain, when it once again lunges, this time grabbing and pulling on the end of the curtain.]

Confounded... Mr. Khan! Some assistance, if you are ready!

[Amelia's lack of reaction to the profanity assures Gene that if nothing else, he has a fallback language or two to swear in around her. In the meantime, ow. The dog is sharp again. He quickly attempts to tie the scrap of curtain around the shoulder before settling on just winding it around for now. It should stanch the blood for now.

That done, he moves to help Amelia. It appears that the dog has decided that now is the time for a game of tug-of-war, and is worrying at the end of what's left of the curtain.] All right, you ridiculous animal--

[Thori opts to set part of the curtain on fire. It doesn't catch, much, since it's been soaked, but it's enough to cover his escape.]

[With a fierce tug on her part, Amelia wrenches away the tormented curtain, ripping it in two. The dog now has a burning plaything, and he seems delighted with it, running off again and proving himself to be a continued fire hazard.]

That thrice-cursed beast is starting to wear on my patience. [Her tone is indicative of her growing agitation as she grips her portion of the curtain tightly, unconsciously poking small holes in it with her claws.]

This is not working. We need another strategy. And quickly, lest it burn down the entire building.

You are not alone, [Gene says, mentally consigning his entire suite to fiery damnation.]

You know...when I said I wanted to live in the Fire Sector, this is not what I had in mind.

[From the other room, a happy sound of "Entrails!" is heard.]

...how rude would it be to kill it?

Depends. I take it it's not your beast, and the previous owner may take issue with your killing a beloved pet. [The beloved is absolutely sarcasm. Why do you ask?]

That being said, we should likely refrain from killing it unless it outright attacks us. Animal cruelty is not something I wish to add to my repertoire.

[Amelia, you are incredibly droll. He likes you.]

Okay. Loki might be a bit put out if I killed his firebreathing hellhound. [He also might not.]

Let's move to subdue?

Indeed. [If subduing results in some pain to the beast, that is just how the cookie crumbles.

She eyes the sink.]

You don't happen to have a bucket on hand, do you?

[He sees what you're driving at.]

Yeah. Hold on.

[Gene fetches the bucket to douse the hellhound. That is, if the damnable creature doesn't magic the water he's filling it with into gasoline or something awful.]

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