As much as he loathed it, he knew that Aryel was right. To have the Throat at the Basin's throat, as amusing a thought it was, would not be a good thing. Unlike the snowy land of his home, the Dragon's Throat was able to make alliances without the threat of a God upon them, so messing with them at all would be a grave mistake. It wasn't that he did not have the guts to pound the roan's head in, but simply, he was logical enough to know better.

"I could care less of your title," the brindle snapped at the mare and picked his head back up, a scowl marring the features of his face. His recent promotion to Weaver had been surprising yet welcomed, but he had never gone around flaunting it. Crowley couldn't deny, however, his astonishment to hear that Aryel had become a Sergeant. He remembered clearly the spat that had gone down in the Threshold, but it had been nothing more than that; it had hardly been a real battle.

Allowing the thought to slip from his mind, he put his focus back into the rest of what she had said, and regarded Lupus with a brief smirk at his words before turning his gaze back to the Pegasus. It was true, that he could simply find another to make his toy, much like he had done with Lana in the Basin, but he considered Aryel a more special kind of 'toy.' His favorite, perhaps, because she was a challenge amongst the rest.

Breathing a sigh, the stallion gave a shake of his head, clearly annoyed with the whole of the situation. He wanted nothing more than to pummel his hooves into the mare's head, or simply allow Lupus to sink his teeth into her easily accessible jugular, but it would have to wait another day. "The only thing keeping her alive," he spoke up, regarding Aryel with a look of disgust, "Is not that I lack the guts, but the fact that she is, unfortunately, correct." The words were spoken through almost gritted teeth, but as always, the look was quickly replaced with a thin smirk.

"Of course, nobody would have a clue what happened to you if we killed you here and now, darling. But, I digress." For a moment he quieted, a thoughtful look crossing his face. There were so many things they could do, considering the vulnerable position of the winged roan, but in the end, Crowley settled on something that he could only hope Aryel would approve of. "Come the beginning of Orangemoon, I'd like to meet the Sergeant of the Dragon's Throat on the battlefield. You may have the pleasure of picking where, lovey, should you accept." Although, he doubted she would back down from such an offer.

Finally the brindle began to turn, in the process jerking Talbot's attention away from the intriguing creature he had found. A whine emitted, for the pup did not want to leave the possible playmate, but it seemed he didn't have a choice. "However, you will have to find your own means of escaping this predicament, unless you can manage to sway me otherwise."

"blather blather blather"