A squeak of outrage escaped her before her eyes narrowed even further, to bare slits, glaring at the leprechaun. How dare he? She was rude? She was rude? He scared away her squirrel, insulted her clothing and called her names, but she was the rude one for asking for a little peace and quiet?
Jeannie was a sweet-natured djinn, but she was a djinn nonetheless, and when she lost her temper, which was more common than some might guess, she acted on instinct. There were many stories about the nature of her kind, stories that Jeannie rarely personified in her own life. But when her temper snapped, it was far easier to see.
If the leprechaun thought she was rude, she would show him rude!
Her arms came up and crossed, her palms audibly slapping against her biceps, and then she nodded and blinked. One blink. One very emphatic and firm blink. And just like that, there was a crowd of approximately fifty squirrels suddenly surrounding the tall redhead. Hungry squirrels.
And she had filled his pockets with nuts.
As added incentive, she lifted her arm and pointed an accusing finger. In a tongue they would understand, she informed the small creatures, “He called you bushy-tailed rats!”
Jeannie crossed her arms again, though this time they were held against her chest, and sat back to watch, her chin lifted haughtily. Nobody liked being insulted, not even a squirrel, and she was certain that they would not take kindly to it either. Let the leprechaun see what happened when he did not watch his tongue.