Turilia would give an eye-roll at the odd visual of the fairy climbing out of the naga's gullet and mouth.  This was truly a very odd group of people she was associating with. She'd glance down at the unconscious  feline, and frown, "Well, we should still do something about this cat." She presses the end of her quarterstaff into the furred flesh a little harder, "He's not dead, and we were asked to bring back a prisoner." She'd pause, taking a moment to look at the bulging bellies, "Though I suspect at least one of you would rather turn him into a meal than a prisoner." A fine thing to say from a woman who's chin still dripped occassionally with the feline's blood!