The worst part was how much anger he packed into his voice, the heat of that glare. It cut her deep, and pissed her off at the same time. She kicked the chair he'd just vacated at him, hard. It hit his legs, a violent outburst of all the emotion she'd been holding in all year. It felt good and she had the sudden urge to keep going, rip something apart. She restrained herself, though.
"Remember you said that when you get us both killed," she hissed back. It had been stupid to try to hurt him, she wanted to beg for forgiveness, but she couldn't. That hadn't done anything last time she'd done it and it would do no better now except to cement that he would not do what she knew (or thought she knew) was best. They were both too filled with rage and fear right now.