Malachite growls, her fingers digging overlarge furrows in the sand, but she does not, in fact, proceed to tear Peridot into little bits. She shudders a bit. Enough of her is real that she could, and as things are she really might enjoy it as promised, but that's not the same thing as wanting it. Not in the slightest. Whatever it is that she's made of, the important parts are unyielding on that matter.

In other words, yep, bluff totally called. Malachite isn't happy about that either, though, so it'd probably be a bit much to hope she might admit it. She glares some more.

"And if I don't, what then? Do you think you can beat me down with kindness? Are you going to talk me out of being a monster?"