Bramblepoint Lethal poison for the system

It was Galaxy's thoughtful, breathy voice and matter-of-fact tone that saved her from Wylla's wrath when she thought she smelled a smart-ass in the room. She crinkled the skin on her snout and briefly revealed the tips of her teeth, ready to clap back—nuh uh girlfrand no one out-sasses the queen—but by virtue of mistaking Galaxy for a hapless simpleton, Wylla held her tongue and settled for unfurling a sweet but condescending smile.

"No, no," she chirped with a little shake of her head to dismiss Galaxy's literal translation. What a silly notion, that words should mean exactly what they meant. Poor thing, she was clueless! "You should be sucking my metaphorical cojones," she replied quite blithely, "but that's not what I meant."

Trying her best not to get caught up in Galaxy's unusual gaze again, Wylla chanced a step or two closer and then edged into a sly circle, asking as she went, "what do you think of lone wolves, hm?"