"Think you're hot shit now, huh?" He says it conversationally, like he hasn't beaten the shit out of Dave before for less. Or just because. "We'll see, next time. You do your worst, Dave Strider, and we'll see how it goes for you." It's banter, kind of, sort of, but mostly shit talking.

"You calling me feminine?" There's something odd there, borderline dangerous again, because he's so fucking tightly wound and repressed about that kind of shit that it's one of the few things that gets under his skin. But then he just rolls his eyes, unseen, and lifts a hand to plant it atop Dave's head and steer him into a diner they're about to pass. "Never had paternal instincts, either, but I'm about to parent the shit out of you, kid."