Cheth rests his forearm on Phaedra's head, smooshing her hair. Her eyes pin angrily.

Phaedra: I told you to never touch me again. Get. Off.

Cheth: Oh, PLEASE.

He floats up a bit, still resting his forearm on her, and lifts his other hand to his head. He grins and pushes a finger to his temple. She stares forward, furious.

Cheth: So I'm not allowed to touch you, but you're allowed to cut off my head? Of course! Seems fair. You continue to be the paragon of justice I always knew you to be.

Phaedra materializes her knife out of thin air, still looking forward angrily.

Phaedra: Yep, and I'll do it again.

Cheth looks down at her with a calm smile. He lifts his hands from her, and raises them in defeat, smiling.

Cheth: Fine, fine. I suppose I could try to be a bit more creative.