The kobold rolls his eyes, muttering swears under his breath in Draconic. "You could have at least waited until the rest of us said something before you acted. Have you no concept of patience, because I must admit mine is running thin right now."
As he reloads his crossbow, he continues, "Listen, you mangy-furred simpleton, I don't know know how you got it into your head that you are somehow qualified to act as leader for our motley crew, but you have given me no reason to trust your judgment after that last stunt. I mean, just think," he says, pointing at the dead orc. "Did you think even for a moment he might not be good to eat? You saw them all look sickly, coughing and all. And even if there is no disease, how do you expect his corpse to keep?"
He folds his arms. "Honestly, I expected some degree of competence, from you, but I fear I was mistaken."