Stavanger Bay you don't own me

Maude had spent enough time chattering away with the "siren", and she saw no better time to wrest her intended prize from the flighty girl than now. While Stitch was hunkered over the seagull's body, her attention was firmly on the hybrid form who sat silently, though with a pleasant and disinterested expression on her face, partially buried in the sand. Maude smiled towards the silent woman, then focused her eyes on the seagull, then Stitch, then the seagull again. Ahh, 'tis a pirate's life fer me. She murmured to herself before lunging towards the seagull formerly known (unbeknownst to her) as Frank, her slavering jaws intent on sinking into the feathered flesh and holding tight as the rest of her body made a break for it.