Cerulean Cape if someone is talking about you behind your back, just fart

His toes were still tender from when she had chomped down on them. He flexed them across the rib bone as he leaned on the foreleg that stayed her attempted thievery, letting the ache give him a reason to be mad. Come hell or high water, the stubborn ol' seadog was not about to bare weakness to her. He told himself she was inconsequential and worth neither his remorse nor his compassion. He told himself that if the roles were reversed she would do the same to him — and he dearly believed that too.

She wrenched on the bone but it held fast beneath his weight. His anger morphed into a grating smirk as he realized that he had the advantage against her. "Sure as hell looks like ye want it," he sneered, hauling himself up so that he could stare down on her like a fat lord over a begging peasant. Despite the outward savage arrogance, there was an irregular and near sickening beat to his heart. He worried she could hear it, smell it, see it, but the distinguishing bandit's mask on his face was not the only one he wore. Raptor steeled himself behind this most credible disguise of contempt and never wavered.