Another snort, muffled by the food in his mouth. He waits until he's swallowed to tell her, "I'm not," in an almost offended tone, as if she's just wrongly accused him of murder.

The truth, however, is that he is. He's taking his time and not talking with his mouthful out of respect for this infuriating, weak human female that's chosen to perch herself at his side like she's worthy of being in his presence.

He doesn't know which is more frustrating: the fact that she does it, or that he allows it like she's earned the right to sit next to the Prince of all Saiyans in spite of being a weakling human.