A muscle in the corner of his eye twitched, the first sign of authentic irritation. He looked at the nikubae caught in the Alpha's hand, and his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth behind his tight lips, causing his whole face to tighten with frustration. The little black fly would burn like a short in an electrical plug, a brief sting as it died; nothing without emotion to feed on. He was surprised that the little cub girl knew what it was; this was either excellent training, or she was telling the truth about meeting him before. He didn't discount it. He was an old creature, and he didn't discount anything except defeat as truly impossible. "I don't lose. And I never play the same game twice."
His back was to the door now. "I could kill you," he told Kira softly, singing it to himself as he considered it. Ki-ill youuu. "I could kill you, or Scott here. But what's the fun in that?" He didn't just go around killing things without reason; that was boring. Death was boring. What did you get after killing people? Corpses. Corpses were not fun. They just lay there. Yawn.
He started to say something else, a taunt, but Kira cut him off. His grip was strong on her arms and shoulder, but she got him in the inside of the knee. As much in surprise as in pain, he loosened his grip, but he realized what she was doing a split second later. With a vicious sound, he wrenched her arm back against her shoulder, wanting to make her pay for eluding him, a very short, trite vengeance.