"They think I'm a what," Ailee politely requests clarification. "You want me to do [i]what[/i]." 

She takes the flask anyway, because now she knows where your flask is and she never misses an opportunity - but she takes a pretty dramatic slam from it instead of splashing it on herself. The tendrils of electric green energy around her become bladed, opening up with beautiful violet eyes like peacock feathers as the essence of Pride rises to the fore. 

And then, voice raw and husky from the drink, she speaks in a tone that passes beyond conscious understanding. Her language embeds itself in the mind of the terrier and bar patrons alike and if they are not capable of understanding it drags their very consciousness up through as many spheres of enlightenment as necessary to ensure they [i]can[/i] understand.

"I am not to be trifled with," she says in that terrible language. "[i]Control[/i] yourselves."

[Talk Sense: [b]11[/b]; Holy Command ensures that everyone and everything understands me.]