"So? You want a gold star?"

If Dante thinks he is going to get a pat on the back and a royal welcome, he's got another thing coming. "I considered saying good job until you started chucking it all in the sand." Honestly! The guy goes through all this trouble to steal some food and bring it back, and then he decides it's a good idea to drop perfectly good fresh kill in the sand? That's how people colic. Granted, she does not expect Dante to think about that sort of thing. Sure, he is smart. She will give him that much. But book smarts and common sense are not the same thing. Plus, he is a dick. So Mel does not feel bad reminding him that while he might have impressed Yes Man, she sees through his bullshit.

Quiet pawsteps announce the arrival of another, soon followed by the robotic voice of Esklav. Cold green eyes flicker over regard the warpriest with an expression that can only be described as sarcastic. "You are wrong, sire," replies the young puma. "There is a need. It's called: 'I want to.'" Should she watch her tongue in front of her superior? Probably, but as far as Melantha is concerned, she keeps Esklav from dying wherever they go. Given the nigh unanimous hatred of the Pitt, the strong arm has privately handled many a would-be assassin. It is worth noting that she actually possesses no ill feelings towards the warpriests beyond her natural apprehension towards males. Then Dante starts yammering stuff that Mel suspects is supposed to offend her or something. It's the desired reaction, and she is careful to keep her expression neutral. "I am not crying, I am criticizing," she says bluntly. Ah yes, the honesty of a teenager. It is best to not be fooled by her usual silence. Melantha is just waiting for the proper moment to be a rotten pain in the ass.