"What?" Bubu said, flipping mid-air in her usual floaty, smug way. "That's literally a magical ability and you should be proud of her."
Isabella stared at the hovering menace.
"Proud?" she echoed, voice flat, lips tight.
"Absolutely," Bubu said, arms stretched like she just delivered an Oscar-worthy monologue. "That's a rare skill, mind you. Not many beasts fart fire."
As if on cue, Glimora peeked up at Isabella, her big wet eyes wide and round like she was waiting for her fate. One wrong word and this baby was going to launch into full-blown sob mode.
And that? That Isabella could not handle again.
So she shot Bubu a look. A very clear, pointed look. One that said: "You better shut your floating trap before I stuff it with one of those roasted mushrooms."
Then, quickly, she turned to Glimora, shifting her tone into something soft and dramatic like a mother in a soap opera.
