The short emperor looked as if he was ready to snap at a moments notice, his large tail angrily cracking the floor threatening to break it. Frieza’s arms were crossed, neatly manicured black nails digging into his skin to hold back an insult or a punch. Just a single touch or a wrong word would be enough to send him over the edge. But he knew he had to hold it back if he didn’t want to die. Whis had trapped him and Son Goku in a room together and told them they had to work together to escape. He had said it was to make sure the two of them didn’t end up destroying the universe in a fight in the future. It made him want to destroy the universe more. The second he escaped he would personally claw Whis’ face off, even if he knew he couldn’t technically touch him.

He refused to look at Son Goku, instead standing in a corner alone as he tried to reel in his rage. Just looking at the Saiyan made him want to throw a death beam at him.