Lost Creek Hollow Sir, you have no call to get snippy with me!

Sulking the whole while, and trying to stifle his yips and shrieks, Joss endured the painstaking process of sitting (relatively) still while Gannet plucked the quills out one by one from his shoulder. He glared up the tree where he could just barely make out the outline of the creature; on its perch, it looked almost like a witch's broom tree growth, save for the fact that its quills were tipped with a lighter colour, and it had a mealy little face. He wanted very much to shake the damn tree until the quillpig fell out on a pile of its own quills- but there was no hope he'd be able to do that. The creature was safe- for now. 

 Luckily for Joss, his companion was almost completely in tune with Joss' fluctuating moods and temper, and seemed to know when to pull back and when to simply let Joss wriggle a bit before going in again- despite Joss's low growls, and the steady side-eye he was given the whole time. All it took was the tiniest movement of Joss' whiskers to cue Gannet to take a moment; he didn't even have to curl his lip, so eventually, the process had moved forward with Joss being a slightly more quiet and steady patient. He turned his head slightly when Gannet pulled back, and uttered a shaky sigh of relief; his shoulder was done.

He was tired of the pain, and of holding himself down as Gannet plucked and pulled the quills out against him. Now was the more difficult part. So when Gannet did manage to take one of the quills embedded in his cheek between his teeth, the pain stung him so badly that rather than staying still and resisting, he leaned toward Gannet to try and take the pressure off the tug and lessen the pain. Now feeling very, very sorry for himself, he slid his now very doleful gaze up at Gannet in a silent plea and whimpered softly.