"I don't want to turn into a blanket!" he scoffs. "Poisons and sharp scaly blades are a lot cooler." 
The A.A. is most definitely thinking about snakes essentially sitting in pots while swaying to instrument playing while the Mamba tries to make his case. Also, with the A.A. technically being the Catamount, everything the Mamba is saying about cheetahs that's supposed to be offensive also technically applies to pumas. Furry, made into blankets...yeeepp. 

The Mamba pauses at that. "They do?"
He means to direct that question towards what she said about snakes. Welp, looks like someone didn't do enough research.

The Mamba avoids answering, though the answer should be obvious enough. "Weell...!" he starts, trying to think of something smart. "Maybe shedding is cool! I just don't know, since I'm not old enough yet." He sounds more like he's half trying to convince himself instead of just her, though.

"I--I don't know!" He shrugs. He makes even that look weird. His mouth tightens as a whole and he frowns deeply. "Maybe now! If I try, maybe it can start now. I can, like--"
His right hand is traveling up, towards his face--specifically, towards the scales that sprouted there earlier. His hand tightens around the scale. And he pulls.
The scale does not come out. Actually, when his hand falls, his hand is all bloody by the fingers.
The narrator thinks that maybe he doesn't know why he usually wears gloves.

The Mamba tries and gets even more blood on his hands from the scraping motion. Well, obviously he doesn't remember that he's not actually a snake, either; if he did, he clearly wouldn't have even brought it up. Or would he? Actually, he probably would. He's like that. It's not a good quality to have, really.

"Yeah," he agrees with an equivalent sigh, putting his hands down, which drip blood. "Too bad."

"I dunno! A looong time," he answers, with yet another sigh. He mutters a small "boohoo" under his breath.

"I dunno..." He moves over to her, surprisingly swiftly, and pinches her cheek. 
"You seem pretty elastic to me," he concludes, moving away before she can slap him for how hard he pinched her just now. Unintentionally, by the way.

"Why what?" he asks, swatting at the air as if mimicking her. And he is, of course, since he doesn't know what he did wrong. "Why we're elastic? I read that we all actually have pig skin. Like, our skin is made of pig!" he exclaims, somehow out of breath already from excitement. "Isn't that cool?"

"How do you know? Maybe your sources are lying," he ponders aloud, moving back just enough to mostly dodge her swipe. She's able to graze the surface of his face, though. To be honest, it feels a little grimy. Someone has been eating too much grease or something.

"My sources would never lie," huffs the Mamba, turning away as if in disappointment and, as such, thwarting her attempt again.

"Because I know," the Masked One boasts, walking away from the Cheetahrab.

"But you can be wrong," he points out, twirling around to stare at her, ironically. "Like that time you said that--" 
Now he's stuck. He forgot what she said that was wrong, even though he actually does have a few examples (and just as she would have examples for his end as well). His eyebrows float upwards as if trying to escape from the embarrassment that he, of course, is personally unable to feel. 
Anyways, he proceeds to act like he already finished the sentence, starting to walk away again. His eyebrows are still trying to get away, though. Go eyebrows.

Woo-hoo! A beeline for this year's October 31st! Halloween, here we come!
The Mamba wanders around the room. Actually, this is slightly abnormal for him, since usually he's running around. But now, he's just sauntering around, like he's trying to remember something.
Oh, the A.A. just left the room. 
Don't worry, they're not ragequitting.
 

Remember how the narrator said that the Mamba was being relatively tame for once? Well, it's like the A.A. leaving immediately set off some switch in him, because he's suddenly sprinting. "WHEEE!" he's shouting, flailing his arms around.
Hopefully that wasn't what he was trying to remember.