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

Ugh, insufferable being. Raptor played the part of slovenly, obese royalty rather well, quadruple chins and all, a fact that only incensed Wylla further despite how poorly it made him look. What a cretin, lying to her and then acting like some holier-than-thou king of the world. She gave the bone another sharp tug, growling all the while, and refused to meet his eye for a long time. There was no sense justifying such an immaturely stupid creature with a response, she thought. It only bothered her more that she was the queen and he was the peasant licking someone else's shoes, yet here he was, lording over her. At length, she reasoned that aristocrats need not concern themselves with the thoughts of worms, so for the time being, she took the high road and shut her mouth.

But as we all know, in the end, Wylla's burgeoning ego won out over her better senses. How could it not? She was the equivalent of a twenty year old train wreck, fifteen years in the making, with over a hundred fatalities. Her brain ticked along in slow motion until finally it stopped, and a wicked smirk curled the corners of her lips up into a Cheshire grin. "Nice comeback," she snarled around the rib bone, "did you scrape it off the back of your throat?"