[by the eight thousand myriad of gods, Odinson????

Not nearly as grumpy about it as she appears, Hayame slaps at his hands as she goes back to restraighten the deer hide about her waist, trying to will her cheeks any color but red before she goes back into public.]

How you survived this long without losing your fingers I shall never know-

[well, all of his fingers!]

Go, you scoundrel, before I change my mind.