Overture Downs can't stand it

the kid had a mouth on her—sharp, biting, like a stray dog that’d been kicked one too many times and learned to snarl before anyone could get too close. it pissed him off. not because of what she said, but because of what sat underneath it.
his ears flicked forward at her last words, at the look she tossed him over her shoulder—casual, like she didn’t give a shit if he followed, but open enough that she wouldn’t mind if he did.
tantrum, he echoed, a scoff under his breath, but his paws were already moving.
he followed.
not because she wanted him to. not because she was his problem. but because something in his gut told him she didn’t have anyone else doing it. and that? that was the part that pissed him off the most.