Rather promptly, he stiffens up and flares his nostrils out slightly in aggravation. In honesty, he should deny anything and offer a good boot to the highblood's head just for good measure. Yet for some reason- possibly still the tentative grasps of old hemospectrum programming inside of him- keeps him back.

"I highly doubt you would be capable of keeping that heinous excuse for an air-intake hole closed and those ill-cleaned teeth inside," he sniffs.