Lips Are Movin'

Her sterling glare would bore into the femme's odd eyes, claws scarping the ground with irritation, and tail like a whip, lashing back and forth behind her small frame. Why bring her pack into this? A sigh escaped her lips through clenched teeth, more of a feline hiss than a solemn sigh. A strained chuckle forced itself upon her onyx lips, trying to keep her annoyance down to a minimum with this stupid wolf.

Through clenched jaws, she huffed out something similar to an answer, barely audible to her own ears. "Do you need to know?!" she snapped, more audible than her last answer. The stupid femme needed to stop asking questions, she was sounding as though she were a five year old. Rolling her sterling orbs yet again, she glared at the dame. "It is Roman Armada." she stated flatly, not caring enough to give any other emotion. Stupid wolf.