The growl purrs in her throat. A renewed possible threat if she doesn't back off. Brigid won't attack with the angel right there, because she will not harm one of the Host, but the taunting is something she will remember from this little meeting.

Her claws flex, but she still says nothing. Her few scrapes and bruises will be gone in a couple hours. She isn't worried about it.

Her eyes flick to Raphael, but she still watches the feline bitch touching the angel. St. Raphael's scolding brings a flicker of unease to her stance. He's an archangel and there is something to be feared there. She knows that.