It didn't in the least. In fact, if he'd been less drunk Gabriel might have realised just how long it had been since he'd been bucking the written terms of Fate, even if in this instance it was to do with the Norse Ragnarok and not his Father's Armageddon. As it was, he was more than drunk enough not to comprehend his own words.

"It was," he said, nodding emphatically. "First I had to convince 'em not to cut me just 'cos I was going against that whole fate thing. Then I had to convince Hel to let 'im go, and trust me, that wasn't easy since she knew I wasn't Loki. If I hadn't been pretending to be her father ..." He wolf-whistled. "In the end they seemed to decide that 'Loki' bucking tradition was just another way of sewing chaos and since that was perfectly within the constraints of Loki's existence, they let it go. 'Parently some of 'em were really kinda bored after they'd chained up the real one, anyway."

At that question Gabriel could only give his brother a blank, incredulous stare. Then he pointed at him emphatically. "You need to read more classical culture, bro. And by 'classic culture' I don't mean those door-stoppers by Charlie Dick." He made a face, knocked back a shot and tried to refocus on his brother. "I never--I never ... Hm. I should call for a reversal, here. I never got not-burned in a fire in London."