It's true, Catra was absolutely not going to heed that warning. If she still wore her old Horde ensemble, the stiff fabrics would have done a bit to protect her sides from Adora's hands. Shame for her, her new clothes are flimsier; and the wriggle of Adora's fingers are clearly felt through it, all of Catra's body seizing and spasming as she yowls in protest, her efforts to escape failing as she instinctively jams both arms down to hug across her stomach in defense.

"--Melog!" She manages to gasp out, squeaky and pitched, fighting back the laughter. She won't give Adora the satisfaction, she won't. It takes all of her mental fortitude to take her arm away from her stomach for the quick second she needs to throw the thoroughly squashed bread in a random direction, but Catra's spite trumps all else. She knows Melog will catch it, and Adora will definitely not be getting the bread back now.