"Riiiight." Isabel muttered that under her breath. Chaos snapped his head up to look at her, copper eyes narrowing. He knew that tone of voice out of his charge, and he did not approve. She was up to something.

"You're right," she said, raising her voice--he was walking away, after all, and she wanted to get one last zinger off. "But the world doesn't have its head so firmly wedged up its buttcheeks, and you do!"

Nailed it!

If a cat could roll his eyes, Chaos would have done that. Instead, he lifted a paw to his face. No, he wasn't washing it...he was facepawing. Isabel needed to learn more sense...