Grodd did not argue.

Arguments implied uncertainty. Debate. The possibility of being wrong.

He was not wrong.

Which was why this situation was… irritating.

The jungle was quiet around them, tension cutting through the air sharper than any threat. Not a fight. Not yet. Just the edge of one—controlled, restrained, deliberate.

Grodd stood still, massive frame rigid, watching her with narrowed eyes as she challenged him in a way no one else would dare.

“…You’re repeating yourself,” he said.

A pause.

“And you’re still incorrect.”

His voice wasn’t raised.

It didn’t need to be.

He stepped closer, presence alone enough to dominate the space between them, but there was no violence in it—just pressure. Expectation.

“You think this is about preference,” Grodd continued. “It isn’t.”

Another pause.

“It’s about outcome.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was recalculating something, adjusting variables in real time.

“…You’re not afraid of me,” he said.

Not a question.

An observation.

Something new.

Something… noted.

Grodd exhaled slowly, tension shifting—not gone, but redirected.

“Then stop arguing like you are,” he said.