[After having finally squirmed himself into a more "comfortable" position on his side, Illidan rested his head on the arm of the bench, while his wings hung off the back, and one foot stuck off the edge awkwardly. He overall looked like a large dog trying to squeeze into a small space.

At her scolding he let out a whiny groan, an almost comical scowl on his face, just as he did in hi youth, and retorted with the same quick whit.]

Oh for the love of... and what would I do with it Tyrande? Would you really like to see me playing with knives and an open flame? I was dangerous enough in the kitchen when I could see.