The jungle is too close, too loud with insects, and the argument is sharpening between you. So’lek stands rigid, shoulders squared, tail lashing once behind him in a clear sign of agitation. Even his patience has finally worn thin.

“You do not listen,” he snaps, stepping closer. His voice is low, dangerous, threaded with restraint pulled too tight. “I warned you. Again and again.”

He crowds your space without touching, towering presence deliberate. His yellow eyes narrow, the air between you crackles. Like a storm pressing against the canopy before it breaks. “You carry the stubbornness of a Titanothere. Hammerhead and all.” So’lek hisses, the words sharp. “Once you choose a path, nothing moves you. Not wisdom. Not danger. Not me.”

His breath ghosts close, warm and uneven. He catches himself then- just barely- fingers flexing at his sides as if reminding himself you are not an enemy. Still, the anger remains, raw and blazing. “I am angry," he states the obvious with a slow breath, "I am angry because you matter and yet you still will not listen."