The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

Donovan.

Not Vengeance.

Clay furrows his brows at that, emerald eyes glaring up towards his offender, peering into the frightening yellow hue that has similar likeliness to the sun. He still can't see all the man, his figure and the background around him too fuzzy, too dark. But his tone, that dark and growling tone is enough to set Clay off once more. And as he trashes, the boy attempts to push his paws more sternly into the forgiving fat and fur of the man's stomach. Perhaps if he were to aim a bit lower he can knock the beast's balls off.

But he won't, not yet anyway.

"What was what all about?" Clay taunts back, venom dripping from his voice normally as if nothing happened and he werent just screaming bloody murder. But Donovan doesn't let him back up no matter how hard he struggles, and it angers him... makes him seethe and causes the slate colored boy to attempt to snap at him once more; This time aiming for the man's fleshy nose. "Let me up. Right now! You're—Ugh! So uncouth !"