Swiftcurrent Creek tongue-tickling bubble juice

Again the brute answered tersely, making it known that he disagreed with as few words as possible. Before that moment, Olive wondered if he would even care enough to disagree, or if he’d just dismiss her once more, as if she were a fly buzzing around a piece of meat! But at least she had gotten something out of him, and she didn’t make her feel like more of an idiot, trying to talk to a brick wall. It was possible that he might just be stupid — but Olive, who was decently intuitive when it came to knowing others, looked at him and knew there was intelligence beneath the austere facade… but there was also a certain belligerence that had caught Olive in a particularly agitated state that day. 

Must have been all the nightmares.

The pale stranger picked up to exit the scene once more. Not willing to let him go that easily [for she was invested in this, now!] Olive’s tail lashed and she called out in a voice more emphatic than normal. “No, see, right there! That’s rude!” At least, in this, Olive knew she was correct. Even Arturo, who was literally her mortal enemy, did not treat her as such. So, how could he possibly claim that his actions were not boorish? Did he really not know, or must he be a liar, too? Olive’s head swam with the possibilities.

“Hey —”

The spiced druid barked as he shuffled past her, and she stood as tall are her featherlight frame would allow, ears swiveling in confused, twitching manner. The lamb didn’t really understand her emotions right then [didn’t have enough time to process it] but somehow continuing this interaction stoked a certain fire that she had not felt in so long. It felt good — and bad — but mostly good. She sneered. “i’m   t a l k i n g   to you!”