Jorg breaks out into fresh peals of laughter as his back slams into the wall of the little burrow. He feels something soft and cold under his hands and extracts the offending earth worm from the soil. He eyes Angela, imagining her screams as it landed on her clothes, but something about her dark flashing eyes and the confines of their hiding place stops him in his tracks. He holds it up to show her instead as it starts to wriggle, trying in vain to coil around his finger. He grins at her, and then throws the worm out through the entrance. The spirigus has churned up the soil nicely out there. The worm will be happy. Jorg leans his head back against the mud wall behind him and takes the opportunity to get his breath back a little. He can feel himself grinning from ear to ear and lowers his chin to meet Angela's eye.

She's not looking at him anymore. She's started to edge back towards the burrow entrance.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jorg says casually. He takes the opportunity to move his leg, hoping to reduce the likelihood of it falling asleep on him, and taking up a little of the space Angela had previously occupied. He wonders vaguely if she'll notice.

And then the spirigus ploughs into the burrow entrance, his tusks narrowly missing the top of Angela's head. He doesn't understand a word she says in response, but he knows the turn and reckons he can make a damn good guess.
"I don't think he likes you," Jorg teases. The burrow seems to shake and loose earth comes free above them, showering them in soil and beetles. Jorg encourages one to crawl onto his finger and examines it closely. It looks like a tiny dead leaf. He stretches out his arm and deposits it back in the mud far out of the reach of Angela's feet. She seems like the kind of person prone to bug squishing.
"Do your worst, eldhusfifl-griss!" Jorg calls out at the Spirigus in Norse. He switches back to English with another grin. "Last time I share my lunch with someone quite so hairy!"

His knee bumps hers as she settles herself back inside the burrow.
"Way I see it," Jorg says, as the spirigus hits the burrow entrance again, dislodging yet more dirt. His hair will look brown before they're finished. "We have three options." Jorg just about manages to hold up three fingers, his arm squished up stupidly against his torso so he looks like some kind of shrunken dwarf. At least, he imagines that's how he must look, since the description suits Angela down to the ground in their current predicament. "One, we wait until he gets tired or bored." Jorg lowers one finger. "Two, we wait for my bodyguard to find us and kill Snuffles out there." He shakes his head and sticks out his tongue. Both of those options are incredibly boring. "Or three, we have some fun and pool our magic to make a daring escape!" Jorg pauses. "We might get maimed in the process, of course" he continues, sounding completely thrilled by the idea, "but at least we'll go down laughing!" His smile splits into a grin. "What do you say, Meyla?"