Cricket laughs again, nuzzling the fur as gently as he can. What he really wants to do is cling and not let go, and maybe a god can't get squished in a mortal grip no matter what size he is, but Cricket prefers not to take the chance.

He slides lower against the log and sets both hands and Loki-stoat in the center of his chest.

"Wasn't sure if I did it right." He's teary, but smiling. "You're okay, then. Safe as you can be in this? You're so sweet in this shape, look at your li'l pink nose..."