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Snack was annoyed--more than annoyed if he had the vocabulary to think of a bigger word than that--and he was determined to ferret out who had started it. There was absolutely nothing fun about an over-excited furball who babbled on and on and on and on about some Oasis Soccer League. Not that he had a clue what that was. And Willow hadn't been any help there, she'd run off to tell her friends about it once she'd explained there were teams.

He might have felt bad for the boundless energy heading their way but he was much to glad to have some temporary quiet. He'd been all set to curl up for a nap when he thought eventually she'd be back and the yammering would continue. Which meant he had to find whoever had started this and--that was as far as he'd gotten. At least finding the one responsible was proving so far to be easy, all he had to do was follow the stream of minis and remind himself they weren't food (for the moment).

The stream of other excited minis led him to more excited minis who were kicking a ball around. More importantly it led him to an otter who appeared as unhappy as he was about this soccer league. He approached the angelic cautiously. She looked possibly more upset than he was.

"You 'noyed, too?" he asked eyes narrowing as some minis ran by.

The feral's eyes seem to light up, so it was all her fault then that Willow had been worse than usual--had been so bad in fact that if it wasn't for Toothless's fondness of the mini he might have gone against everything and eaten her (or not, she had a way of being disarming). Of course, in listening to what she was saying it seemed it was more the minis themselves that had excited Willow. He supposed growling at her and trying to eat her wouldn't do any good. And Opheliac was bigger than him being an angelic and all, could probably fly... It was probably best not to threaten her really. (Not that he was any good at insults in the first place.)

Plan A of eating the one responsible, foiled, he sighed.

"What sock-her?" he ended up retorting because he had never heard of it. He wasn't sure if a sock was that silly thing humans put on their foot or another name for hitting--neither one had much to do with hitting a ball around. Unless the ball was a her... His brow scrunched, no, that couldn't be it.

Although he did have an idea for how to make it dreadful, "I could eat 'em!" he grinned. With his chest puffed out and grin, it looked entirely like he was joking. Which he wasn't but he didn't think he'd be allowed to eat them. Oh, it was a good thing he'd already eaten then--it didn't look like he was going to find any snacks here.

Snack considered this soccer, ears twitching about as he listened to excited minis and the distant thunderstorm. It sounded rather boring really, not to mention pointless. And it was possible a whole bunch of things were missing in how it was played. He tilted his head to look over her should, a good-sized lake rested there.

"Make 'em catch feesh firs?" he suggested. It was cold and there might not be any fish in that body of water. It might make it rather miserable. He looked rather hopeful that it was a good idea--or hopeful about something. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

A crooked grin split over his face, as he brushed his claws against his chest as if to say, "Of course, I'm brilliant. Did you ever have a doubt?" Although before he could think to make an actual response she was shouting at the minis. He grimaced first at the loudness of the angelic and then at the very bad sound of a hundred thousand little feet pattering against the ground. This couldn't be good.

The feral found himself being pushed forward by the stampede, face-planting when they finally pushed him to the ground. When he thought it was over, he pushed himself up only to find a second wave engulfing himself like a million ants and tossing him into the chilly waters as they all began diving and jumping around in search of a fish.

Snack growled when one circled him as though he might count as a fish. However with all the churning water it was a chore to stay in place. And the only thing he could think of, besides holding his breath and sinking to the bottom was to swim to shore.

We started paddling toward shore, whether or not it was the wisest thing to do at the time.

In Snack's mind that was a mighty good payoff--except he was hardly in the mood for eating anymore. Instead he gave his tail a whack and sent the still flopping ones back into the lake. No sense in drying up the food supply, he might be hungry later. He took one fish in his mouth, about to leave when he noticed the soccer game wasn't quite going according to plan.

True the minis did seem much more tired but one was running away with the ball. Not towards either goal. No this mini was running and kicking the ball towards the Par King Lot--not that Snack really knew what that was. It was flat and hard, he didn't go there much.

"Goin' wrong way!" Snack said once he spit out his fish. He pointed towards the run away horde of minis. And then it dawned on him that if he'd kept his mouth shut, he could've left. Now he'd have to help round up the little things. With a huff of annoyance at himself, he gave his body a shake to get the water out of his fur and took off after the mini meals with a loud growl--which would probably only scare them into running more really.