Don't Be A Dumbass... That's My Job [Ronan]

Ronan grimaced as Tarnish's teeth caught the inside of his leg, at the junction where leg met torso, right in the armpit. Or legpit, whatever it was called. Tarnish got a good, solid grip on Ronan, meaning his mobility was limited considerably, wasn't able to turn or twist away at the risk of making it so much worse.

Very well.

Ronan squared his shoulders and shoved himself forward, intending to use the forward momentum to smack the claw slice aside. He put a real amount of heft behind it, enough in the hopes of bringing an end to this honestly pointless squabble. The coyote pup was already dead.