"Muggle servant?" Wheatley blusters, outraged. He is neither of those things - or, rather, reasonably sure he is neither of those things, though he's not really quite certain what either of those things are, exactly?

"You're lying," he postures wildly. "Right bluffing, that's what you are. Can't hurt someone like me, no sir, not with whatever...hoof getup it is you're wearing. That, sir, is a - well it's - it's a rubbish costume, how d'you think of that?"