If Sal wanted to, he could have shot that finger clear off. But he didn't want to mar the perfect beauty that was Alessa moaning orgasmically in a church. Really, who the fuck picked these Asgard people?
Other than that, though, Sal had had enough. She obviously wanted him over, by, or on that table. He knew there was a purpose behind it; they certainly weren't going to be having burgers on it. It was a trap, it was a trap, it was a - oh, who the fuck cared.
He sprinted up to the table and leapt upon it, one leg on either side of Alessa. Then he dropped to his knees roughly, practically straddling her.
"I'm here now." He leaned down atop her, his nose only inches from hers. "And whatever you want to do, I look forward to it. Hope that doesn't put a dampener in your plans." He pouted.