It appears that Sigyn’s shrieks of delight have been mistaken for cries of alarm, because there is suddenly six-foot-six and multiple hundred pounds of too much brainless ersatz brother leaping to her “rescue.”
“Fear not, gentle Sigyn! Mjolnir and I shall smite these flapping fiends and crush them into a colorful paste!”
” ‘Sup, peeps? Got a little trouble with some insects, I hear? One good repulsor blast and they won’t bug you any more. Bug you, get it?”
Now Sigyn is distressed and I’ve got TWO overzealous superheroes to contend with. Go away, gentlemen. Everything is fine here.
Seriously, go. Go, and take a piglet or two with you.
“Grr. I heard there was trouble! How can I help?”
“Hey, Thor, how far d’you think one of these goobers would stretch?”
“I do not know, Man of Iron. But I think the maiden, Sigyn, would be much distressed if we tried to find out.”
“Look at those porkers! They sure do love those carrots!”
Do you see what I have to put up with?