Gilda Griffon smiled smugly at the dragon pinned beneath her talons on the dirt and stones, trying to catch the breath stolen from her during their wrestling match. The two of them often had competitions like this, fighting, wrestling, racing. “You should know better by now brute strength don’t work on me, Garb,” Gilda teased, leaning in a bit towards the red dragon. Garble huffed, a pouf of smoke bursting from his nostrils as he turned his face away, frowning like a petulant child.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Garble grumbled, still not looking back at Gilda. It made his blood boil that she, so much smaller and - outwardly - weaker than himself always seemed to have the advantage in their little spats. Of course, he’d never been the brightest bulb, so it wasn’t a big feat for Gilda to use her greater agility to her advantage and cow the hot-headed dragon. “You won, now get off me, I want a rematch” He growled, bringing up a clawed hand and giving her a little shove.
Gilda chuckled, a sound that was part laugh, part strange warble, turning and leaping off of Garble, but not before delivering a snap of the tip of her tail to his snout. Garble hissed angrily, sitting up. Gilda sat simply upon her haunches, eyes narrowed casually and pretending to play innocent.