[ at first, she doesn't understand what it is he's doing. is he stepping away? is he giving in? she certainly hopes so. it's only when the kitchen opens, when the telltale clang of glass bottles echoes out and she reflexively claps her hands to her ears that she realizes what he's doing.

the brute. the idiot. why can't he see she's in the right?

slowly, she forces her arms back to her sides. after all, she is more than capable of powering through such things, no matter what he might believe. with all the venom she can muster, she says cleanly and precisely: ]

If your aim is to prove me wrong, you'll have to try much harder than that. [ she continues without breaking eye contact. ] Well? Will you raise your fist next?