Jaina wasn’t entirely sure what she expected in response, but being glared at as if this whole thing was her fault definitely wasn’t it. Put on the defensive before he even spoke, she found herself automatically glaring back defiantly, shifting back a step to set down the plate she was holding on one of the random crates stacked around - purely so that she could fold her arms instead of stand there awkwardly.
>"What does it look like I'm doing?" - Jaina almost responded by pointing out that what it looked like he was doing was being a cranky weirdo standing in the middle of a ring of fire, but before she could he continued, “It's called being stabbed in the back. I'm sure you're familiar with the phrase?"
At first, his actual words took some of the edge off her defensiveness - being stabbed in the back was understandably going to make someone pissy, yeah, and she didn’t like the idea of someone doing that to him, even in a not-literal sense. And then the realization set in that he was implying this was her fault, or that she was involved, and it amped back up.
He should have known better than to think she’d do this, shouldn’t he?
“What, you think this,” she waved a hand at the fire, then crossed her arms even tighter, hands curled into fists, “- is my fault? Knowing you, I’m pretty sure you brought it on yourself.”