Kiba eyed the hand with jerky warily, visibly licking his chops as the scent of it sent his saliva glands into overdrive. He _wanted_ it.
He also knew the hand holding the jerky could move faster than he had thought. His shoulders bunched, rolled, and his legs shifted a bit for a better stance, claws scritching quietly on the floor.
"Trrrap," he rumbled half-queryingly, half-accusingly. He had not expected for the human word to come out of his snout, but he wasn't sure he was dismayed it had. He'd let the human know this wasn't some - some mindless, non-thinking dog, that if he was caught by fish-man (the way he'd MOVED, and he had power over a pack of talking cats!) they hadn't just caught some dumb - DOG.
His voice wasn't the same as when he was human-formed. Deeper, throatier, a harmonic like a growl pitched underneath it and vowels wanting to slide into barks. But it WAS a voice.