"I don't think you understand how this game works," he countered with, inching forwards. Getting too close and there was no risk, no fun in a chase that was over before it started. "Which is pretty strange, because...well, if you don't want to play the game then why are you out here? In the dark, in the woods, that you know -for one night only- is filled with people."
Jack smiled, a little more genuinely than before. He was about ten feet away now, tensed and ready to spring just in case the boy on the log decided to play along. Of course, turning away had been the first mistake, and had allowed Jack to get much closer than, mostly likely, Lysander would have wanted. He was almost gleeful to see what the next mistake would be. Wolves be damned, Odin was the master of this game.
"No. Three seconds and then I'm coming for you. Start Running." The last two words were...different. Perhaps it was a power, or perhaps it was just an instinctive confidence that came with being the head of a pantheon. Maybe one day he'd trade notes with Zeus, Ra or Amaterasu, but there was a timbre in his voice that expected to be obeyed. Daddy always got what he wanted, after all: and that wasn't going to change just because he wasn't an eight-foot bearded Viking anymore.