Ankyra Sound holla holla

"Excuuuuse me?!" The yearling barked. Out of all the words Vlad had mangled, the "seks" one rang loud and clear and she stepped off in a bounding gambado out of arms length -- an effect similar to boric acid scaring a flea off the back of a cur. There was an ornery strain on her frons as Vlad commanded her sights. If only looks could kill. "Not on your life." She then volleyed her glare at Caiaphas, backing up. "If he touches me..."  Lusca gave the distant timberline a once-over; trying to rambo.exe out of this unpredictable quandary would likely not pan out in her interest, but she was so not suited for the fille de joie lifestyle, and the threat of the seahag's teeth were heaps less alarming than the threat of Vlad's indigent groin spasming against her. 

She made another step back, muscles tense and a demand plumbous on her tongue. "You better let me go." Nonetheless, a demand that was amusedly powerless in context. Or what, scurvy little wolf?