It's rare that she lets him do all the pushing. Usually he pushes and she pushes back, often drifting dangerously close to territories Vegeta wants her nowhere near or refuses to go himself, but she isn't doing that this time. He's got his hand on her, is looming almost menacingly closer than he's ever gotten to her, yet she isn't pushing back.

Strange— and curious. It's enough to prevent him from retreating.

Vegeta's palm scoots higher again, this thumb brushing against the underside of her neck and then up to trace her jawline.

"I'm not like you or your moronic group of so-called saviors."