Poseidon couldn't fire any lightening like his brother, and he wasn't close enough to the sea to beg her for help. The sea had long since started pulling away from him, which had sent him on this path to begin with. Now he was here, bloody, and beaten by one of Zeus' hounds. He wanted to rip her to shreds, but clearly she had stepped over her own boundaries. Perhaps Zeus would do the work for him.
"I'd rather rip your throat out if it quiet's you." He spit at her feet, eyes dark as he was nowhere near impressed with her show. He sat back against the leg of his desk. "Why not just kill me?" He asked her in that deep baritone, knowing without the answer she wanted she wouldn't do it.