Sawtooth Spire dear god: thanks, if you loved me the vegetables would be extinct

adorable? ADORABLE? sir i will have you know i am about 16 oz of whoop ass. i am not adorable.
were it not for the fact that she was such a mite, and a near-senseless one at that, she would take mighty offense to his false reckoning of her. ronald mcdonald headass. 
with such micro-aggressions quelled under the lid of a teacup, she waited on the stranger with mussed expectations holding her in further abeyance from the depths of bedlam—clearly this wasn’t the milkmaid or her bondservant. she longed for the kettle warmth of the one with the sirupy milk, but to phaedra’s agitation, that individual was gone forever, and she was amidst a bloody famine. she’d contemplate eating thade if she must. 
stag approached in the manner you would expect from a nerd trying to access area 51 right before being tackled and tased by the feds (and he wasn’t wrong to fear suchlike things), but his intrepidity gave her an opening to get a better whiff of this semi-familiar scent that had ladled into her well of curiousity. instinct shortly informed her that this clown was unlikely to be a threat—she was smelling the familial emblem of sagtannet. safety, that's what her intuition noted.
inheriting some of his intrepidity, she began to squirm towards her potential wet-nurse to bargain for milk, but didn’t get very far before the baton of his foot extended a bodily push back towards the bowels of the den.
rude, and it wasn’t as effortless as he wanted to be—the tentativeness of his touch only accomplished staying her put, and the same response one gets from wagging a finger at a turtle's head. her gouard withdrew into the fat-rolls of her neck and she freed a screech of frustration (muffled by his stupid foot), regarding his audacity with an inclement frown.