Sun Mote Copse musical chairs is turning into an adult drinking game.

Once given the phrase to say, in order to buy his freedom, Bronco started holding his breath just as a pre-emptive maneuver so that he could squeak out whatever he had in him in terms of gas. He clenched his teeth together in a grin as Penn gave in and started to repeat what Fennec had said- but he changed the ending to suit himself. Bronco rolled his eyes, and had expected Fennec to stick to her guns and demand that he say it right- but she seemed appeased with just that, and moved out of the way. While she might've been satisfied, Bronco wasn't. And Bronco was a teenage boy, and exactly the sort of teenage boy that could somehow, inexplicably, seem to summon a fart whenever necessary. And he deemed it necessary. His cousin's bony elbow hit him in the haunches, but Bronco wasn't short on padding in that area. It was only when the male's teeth clamped down on his paw that he seemingly hit the eject button. 

It started out somewhat high pitched and wavering for a moment, but quickly (within half a second), in its pent up frustration, lost its dry, innocent tone and dropped in pitch, making a low, rippling roar. Bronco- pleased beyond belief with himself for having conjured such an offensive noise, laughed raucously as he finally tumbled away from Penn, stumbling from sheer amusement (and presumably some desparate squirming from Penn as he tried to escape the incoming gas attack). His foot stung, and a small line of blood began to trickle down between his toes where Penn had bitten him, but he couldn't feel the pain for the laughter that made him shake and guffaw. "Phew! That'un musta been Penn-t up in there for a while! Yer Momma's gonna think you're some kinda -ass-licker- when you get home!" Bronco said, throwing in Ptero to emphasize his chosen insult. He stepped away, wrinkling his nose when the scent wafted toward him, making him laugh again.