Wheeling Gull Isle molotov cocktails on me like accessories

im laughign so hard im sorry

her peaceful organization is abruptly disturbed by an outrageous question -- wheeling around, reed cries indignantly, "do i look pregnant to you?" my god, how old does he think she is! and who is this strange man, anyway, approaching her with such invasive questions! her fur puffs up dramatically, mouth twisted in an unhappy, toothy frown as she takes a defensive stance in front of her little den-turned-cache. "how dare you," the fearghal snaps, an insulted flash of incandescent flame against the yellow-gold sands. head and shoulders raised, her soverign bearing disturbed as she stares down the peasant that so thoughtlessly intruded on her.