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[ Sleipnir only seems mildly annoyed when he comes trotting over, his eight hooves making quite a racket even on the soft prairie grass, but it seems he's just as easily distracted as Tango is, because it's not long before two heads are butting at his middle, one about the size of his entire torso and more than strong enough to send him stumbling with a loud laugh. ]

Boys! [ Supremely confident of his welcome, or maybe just not thinking too hard, he pats over both horse's skulls, scratching under their forelocks and nudging them away from his jeans. ] I don't have anything with me, stop that.