[Nostrils flare; he can smell it from where he stands, would recognize what it was even if he couldn't, he doesn't need her trying to stick it up in his space to figure it out. He narrows his eyes at her, even just the chipper attitude grating.]

And an apple ain't gonna do shit if you're tryin' to feed me.

Meat would be good. Lots of meat. Still mooin' kinda meat.