"Ow, ow, ow--!" Okay, that hurts, but Adora still can't suppress the victorious thrill that runs through her at the tangible shift in Catra's struggling. How it's suddenly just that much more desperate, her voice spiking in pitch, the kicking of her legs a lot less controlled and a lot more twitchy.

If she has to sacrifice a few hairs on her way to victory, so be it.

"What's the-- ah-- matter, Catra?" she retorts, only wincing once through it as Catra grabs fistfuls of her ponytail. Her nuzzling continues with newly-honed resolve, each word muffled into Catra's shirt as she angles her chin up and down, back and forth. Catra's scent fills her nostrils, the oil and her sweat and just-- her, and it makes it a little hard to breathe, but Adora's not stopping. "Something bothering you?"