She's not afraid of him. She's not afraid of him and it pisses him off to no end. He is the Prince of Saiyans, the last remaining member of a superior race! (Kakarot and his halfling son don't count for anything as far as he's concerned.) He could tear her apart with his bare hands, blast her to smitherines with a mere flick of his pinky. Yet she stands unwavering, even as he smashes his fist through her bedroom wall, just narrowly missing her face.

Most people would be intimidated by such an act, would take back their unreasonable demands for him to get out after he followed them into rooms he wasn't 'allowed' to go in.

Not her. Not this infuriating Earth woman who doesn't even do herself the decency of quivering in his presence.

Vegeta wasn't sure whether he hated or admired her courage — if it could even be called that. Foolishness was more like it. And one day, that brazen attitude of hers was going to get a powerless weakling like her killed. If she didn't get back to work in the chamber, it was going to be at the hands of those androids.

He snorts in response to that. "You could always join your mother in front of the television set, but seeing as you lack her complacence—" He leans in closer. "Fix the chamber. The wall can wait."