Fitlered against Lucifer, Death, and all of their jolly friends.
You know, HG, there is nothing more endearing than a creepy tripod that stalks me around the lab.
Except for, of course, a creepy tripod that lunges at me from the closet I happened to lock it in.
In case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not being sarcastic. Nor am I hungover.
I'm also not trying to work on anything important so that Lucifer doesn't kill us all.
If you were wondering (and I know that you were) I don't hate you in this moment. Not even a little.
(Introducing a very special filter to all of you dashing heroes [and, unfortunately, Loki] out there who happen to be weathering the weather) Pick one and I'll make nice with UPS for a very special delivery.