[Damien draws the gun his boy had lent him, and Loki laughs. How could such a pointless act of defiance be anything but amusing? Humans are so willing to lay down their lives for the pettiest reasons.

Loki simply grins at him, a flick of his wrist materializing the sword of Lævateinn. In this form, he's only a few inches taller than Akechi had been, and his clawed hands should be much too small to easily grip the pliers needed to safely carry the red-hot blade, but somehow, it works just fine.]

Do you miss my boy so badly that you desire to meet him yourself? [he purrs, flicking his long tongue through pointed teeth as if scenting the air. His eyes glimmer with amusement as he locks his gaze on the hacker. His phone would be infinitely more useful than the child's toy his ward had lent him, but either way: this man doesn't stand a chance against him. How could he, facing the manifestation of chaos itself?] You, the man who thinks you can claim ownership of my master.