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Who knew why Hel wasn't home at the moment. It was a mystery, and nobody cared less than Freya did. She heard the voice of Mot knocking on her sister's door, but she was so comfortable on her couch.. she wanted to just ignore it.

And she would have too, except she remembered. She remembered those letters, and the wistful tone she thought she read in her sisters voice when she spoke of this particular boil. She remembered everything, and it kind of angered her.

It was half the reason she'd come to the school, in the first place. Might as well get the job done right. No matter how scrawny the boil was.

Freya pushed herself off of her couch with a reluctant groan, moved to the door, and opened it.

"She's not home." Freya's brilliant smile greeted Mot, as did the hand that suddenly reached out to grab his shirt, once she'd gotten close enough. "You cans come wait with me until she is, ja?"

It wasn't a request.

It was a demand.

She dragged Mot into her room, closed the door behind her, and locked it from behind with a soft click.

Freya rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the door, walking slow, deliberate steps toward the boil. "Of course we are! Do you has any brothers or sisters, Mot? Do you not fights with them? We have so many sisters, we are fightings all the time, but we loves each other very much."

She had reached Mot, and her hand rested palm out on his stomach. Her fingers then climbed up his shirt as if they were walking, each finger taking a step in time with each word. "Very, very, very much." She reached up and tapped one of said fingers to his nose, pursing her lips wryly.

"You are a very pretty boil, Mot." This sounded like a compliment, but if he knew her, he'd know it wasn't. Boils shouldn't be pretty, but he was. "I can sees why Hel likes you. Are you thirsty? Can I gets you anything?" She tugged on a piece of her hair. "Anything.. at all?"

"That's good." Freya murmured huskily, putting both her arms to rest on his shoulders. "But ja, that is why you don't knows what it's like, sisters. We fights all the time. We has fought so much more than that, but we will always be okay. Once I punched my sister Sif in the face. I broked her nose. She hated me for a week because we had the school pictures. It's still in her yearbook, hah!"

Using the arms on his shoulders, Freya pulled herself close - too close, and leaned in to stare him down. "Aiya, Mot.." The words were a breathy, but pitiful whine. "Can I ask you a question, and you wills be honest with me? pretty please?"

Freya peeked under his hat, just slightly, and gave him the biggest set of puppy dog eyes he had ever seen.

"Do you thinks I am pretty, too?"

Freya smiled.

"Noooo," She drawled out, curling her finger around his adam's apple. "I just wanted to knows what you thought." Her finger stopped, and her eyes returned up to his. "Do you thinks my sister is pretty?"

If Mot wasn't so innocent, he would know he was treading in shark infested waters.

"Ehhhh?" Freya tried to follow his darting gaze, refusing to let him get away. "What's this now? Is Mot blushings when he talks about my sister? Mmm, even prettier when you blush."

Freya sighed, dramatically, as though tragedy had struck. "Mot doesn't blush for Freya, though. I suppose I never hads a chance. What with a good looking boils like you."

She tried not to laugh.

Odin's beard, but the boil was innocent. She supposed she would have to be clearer about this, before she was sure he wasn't the tramp she was sure he was. She would have to suck it up, and put on her game face.

So she did.

By reaching around, taking both of his hands in her own, and placing them firmly on her a**.

At this point, she almost - ALMOST - let out a laugh. He had such puny hands, oh the poor thing. She was sorely tempted to leave him alone and let Hel break him, if only because one day she was going to have him running for the hills anyway.

"Well, maybe we has just a little fun, and we don't tells sister, hah?" She went in for the kill.