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

What a gracious offer. Wylla's eyes narrowed and her own hackles puffed along her back. Did he really think she wanted to...? Ugh, gross. That was probably even saltier than he was about her chewing on his rib bone, and he was proving to be saltier than the sea itself. Granted, what he clearly wanted would bring her teeth in pretty...

No. Too much.

"How'd you know what your dad said to me last night?" she questioned innocently, facing his threat display with all the impudent brazenness of the devil itself. Their quarrel was very rapidly deteriorating from any semblance of civility into ass-kicking territory, and she had to wonder what the fuck she'd ever done to this guy to deserve such a thing. It would prove too large a vulnerability to do the sensible thing and ask, so Wylla pressed a paw down on the bone and gave it another tug.

As it turned out, ocean-soaked bones left to dry were awfully brittle, and the rib bone snapped unevenly as she wrenched her head back. She staggered under her own momentum, nearly flipping ass-over-teakettle into the sand, but managing to merely land on her side instead. Thusly stunned, she was momentarily unable to respond to anything Raptor said or did; but after a few seconds she recovered, brandished the sharp broken edge of the bone like a recently shattered beer bottle, and snarled, "now look what you did, you fat, ugly bastard!"