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"Nobody could ban you from anywhere, Dawson." She muttered, with a mixture of affection and annoyance. He was, to her, the least offensive and most welcome man on earth. "And if they did, I'd fight them all."

Or she'd argue a lot. In French, no less. That was the more likely of the two possibilities to occur.

She glared with slit eyes at the tease, and her face scrunched up brattily. "You want brat? I can give you brat."

It was too late.

She bared her teeth, and disappeared in the crook of his neck, biting down on the skin there. Tiny growls were coming out of her, much like that of an angry little puppy that you couldn't really be afraid of despite how much it wanted you to.

Lady Supreme wasn't at home right now, it was just the tiny little yappy dog, chomping away at his neck multiple times in multiple places, as if she was trying to find just the right spot to sink her teeth into. The growls of a predatorial pomeranian that continued to vibrate from her mouth were fierce and underwhelming.

The tiny meat eating monster released his neck, and hopped on top of him, sitting on him while her paws dug into his flesh and tried to find some purchase. She aimed for his stomach, because let's face it, the organs were the best part!

"Omnomnomnom gonna eatcha." She growled, picking up his hand and gnawing on his fingers one by one.

She wasn't sure what had gotten into her. It was just a swift injection of playfulness, mischief and a tiny dose of pent up aggression that had her turning feral on him, responding only to his words with nips and growls. She flopped against him, temporarily pausing her tirade to grin up at her prey.

"You aren't sorry. I don't believe you! You just want me to stop eating you, and I won't. It's too late for you now!" The wiggling fingers returned to her mouth, where she gently bit the tips of any that moved. It was more cat-like than before, as she stalked them carefully and waited for any sign of life.

"I don't know." She informed him honestly, settling her chin down against his hand when it stopped moving, to keep it there as her captured prey. "It's hard to tell. I could attack at any moment." Especially if he began to yawn at her, which was unacceptable. She frowned, batting her hand weakly against his face. "Why are you so tired? A fierce animal just threatened your life. This is no time to be yawning."

Dawson was tired, and busy, and stretched thin. Maebe wondered if it was this exhaustion that had him making such awful decisions, such as telling her he was actually interested in something, when he never really was.

She gave him a look and pinched his stomach, hard.

"Okay. So you're busy. I get it. But I didn't invite you over for a sleepover, so if you're hoping to fall asleep here, you'd better start asking nicely instead of just yawning in my face."