Dance with the Devil

The kid had guts, Víðarr would give him that. He came on in such a way that couldn't be taken from him. No, he would need to round the edges on the child, sand them down, while he figured out exactly what to do with it. Children... but this is no innocent. This is a creature that's seen much, a creature that had likely done much, too. Víðarr knows the look about him, the savagery. A fine weapon for those that knew how to wield it. But this wasn't the time or the place to think on precisely what needed done with the kid.

No, instead he was already fighting dirty. Attempting to get beneath the viking king, but he's wise to it-- especially after the fight with Voodoo. She'd tried to come up from under him similarly, though her tactics had been less distasteful. Víðarr snarls, moving in an attempt to land a blow to the boy's shoulder with his massive, heavy paw. In the same motion, his teeth flash and gleam in the sunlight. If they found purchase, the bite that followed wouldn't be brutal, simple discipline for an out of line child. Víðarr means to stay in close to his opponent, to overpower him.

"Viðarr"