There's a quick lashing of the tongue to get the ice pieces off before they decide to solidify with the rest of the ball and trap him and he glares hard at the Pure Evil that has taken form in front of him, looking vaguely insulted. Legs stiff, he'll circle the newly reformed ball carefully, nosing at it in mistrust. A tentative nibble with the very front of his teeth proves the evil non-crunchiness of it and he'll growl a low sound, forgetting for a minute that there's a world outside Evil Balls of Not Crunchy Ice.

Oh, it's ON now, evil ice ball. It's on.