"I have now." That sigh coupled with the information meant it was an unpleasant occurrence, right? He was correctly reading the cues, right? He belatedly added, "I am sorry for your loss, but we do not have to dwell on it." Generic comforts, if that. It was the spider's nicer way of saying he didn't know who or what Xerxes spoke of, and he didn't much care. These poor unevolved creatures. When would they learn that precious little got done so long as emotions were entertained? They shouldn't be allowed to take priority over more important functions!
Dark eyes (just the two. How anyone got by without at least half a dozen, he'd never know) shifted yet again in appraisal of this human's strength. Dead lifting a punching bag, whether at full or half capacity, was not something this body could do. He doubted even the original would manage it without a considerable struggle. Sorry, Xerxes, but you were presently being equated to a prize steer that would greatly please his mother to be brought home from market.
He suggested, "You don't have to be single for long if that isn't to your liking?" winkwink. 'Al-Cid' led the way out of the Training Center's offshoot gym with backwards steps and a wide grin. "At least allow us to vacate this place that moves you to wanting to punch things!" Cooed the Big Bad Spider to Not-So-Little Red Riding Hood. As if to say: all the better to eat you with, my dear.