"OH, I DON'T THINK SO!" Kaya ran up, kicking Quinlan hard again (again!). "You can't just flatter your way out of this, stinkin' abjad! You think we're STUPID? You FILTHY HORRIBLE MA-"
She wheeled up to kick him again, but Nasr pulled her back by the shoulder. "Kaya, is he telling the truth? You brought him here... as a guest?"
"Yeah, but-" Kaya stared at Nasr, mouth agape. Like many desert peoples, and like many nomadic peoples, the Awali had a strict code of hospitality. It was core to their culture, and to their religion. It's what Nasr was reminding her of now. But no way! She'd brought him in and he'd TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF HER! Sort of. But he'd attacked Nasr! "Yeah, but, Nasr!" she protested.
What followed was a heated argument in their native language, with lots of shouting and arm waving. All the while, Myshhusu kept Quinlan under his claws, studying the man with his golden eyes. He lowered his head, sniffing Quinlan, then even flicked out a snake-like tongue against the salty burned skin. As if interpreting the cousins' argument for Quinlan, he explained, "No eating guestsss."
Finally, Nasr and Kaya emerged from their argument. Nasr looked unhappy, but moderately composed. While Kaya was clearly fuming! She looked like a spitting wildcat, ready to spring on Quinlan if only she had the chance.
"Myshhusu, let him up," Nasr told the Sirrush, who flicked his tongue at Quinlan again, then grudgingly stepped back, releasing Quinlan. Nasr turned to Quinlan once the Sirrush stepped aside. "It's dangerous for you outside in the sun, brother. Come into the tent and have some tea."
Nasr didn't look too happy about saying this, and it was clear he was speaking from rote. Kaya, meanwhile, was having to keep her mouth shut at risk of breaking every tenant of the ettiquette of hospitality and verbally, and perhaps physically, assaulting the man again.