"You don't seem like you'd take any bullshit either," he says, with a half a smile, because though there's a warning feeling that he might be on thin ice (Hecate's cousin, Apollo's cousin, where's her loyalty lie?) he can't help himself. And maybe it's the warning feeling that summons up the memory of Apollo in their driveway, the threat and promise behind his smile, Tragos planted between them.
Maybe that memory's just a reminder that sometimes it doesn't matter how tough people seem, there's always someone tougher out there. Even Hecate had almost been drained down to nothing from the effort of saving his life.
He tries not to think about that, though. the guilt of his own survival and what it cost is too strong. "Bet you can hold your own," he continues, instead, raising his eyebrow at her in a question. (Again, the feeling of thin ice beneath him, the feeling that he's poking a stick down and watching the ice crack beneath his feet. How can he be so wary to leave the hotel, but so quick to stare someone potentially so powerful right in the face and question them about the extent of their own power? Is he just that bored?)