"He's not my pet," Clarke hisses, every nerve ending alive and absolutely seething in this moment. The history of Ody the crab spans about year now, and almost all of that time spent in the grasp of Natsuno Yuuki or Palamedes Sextus — two of her closest people, and one now heartbreakingly absent. Ody is a remnant, a trace left behind, and (at least by her judgement) absolutely not evil, so he doesn't deserve being laced up like a decapod berserker for people to laugh or rage at. But a stranger isn't entitled to that story right off the bat.

And when the newcomer hoists the knife-burdened crab into the air, she's absolutely reaching out for the barstool to her right. Dragging it forward. And — it's all in the eyes — threatening to climb onto the seat in order to reach her prize.

"But he doesn't belong to you, either. I'm not asking again, hand. him. over."