[Perhaps for someone kinder, Elizabeth's reaction would be a sign to calm down, to stop and rethink the situation. Instead, her fear grates at him. Is he to be stuck with this fearful little thing? And so he presses harder - she'll either find her spine or fold without it, and either will be preferable that this]

And what will you do to stop me? You are acting like a child, afraid of what an adult might say or think, speaking flattery to win them over and earn a sweet or avoid a lashing.

I am agreeing with you. There is no shame in something that is imperfect - it can still do the job well enough. [It is perhaps the only useful thing he learned from the temple's elders: even the flawed and broken has a place in the world. A cruel lesson for a child, when it was applied to you, but he had taken it to heart. Life is a perpetual seeking to grow and improve, to become something more than you were. He believes it of himself, and expects the same effort of anyone else. And so he will not give Elizabeth so easy an out.]

So why are you not taking your own advice, and getting something done, as you put it? You have hands, legs, a mind that can think and react. You can do more that translate scrolls if you truly care to do so.

[He sighs. He hasn't the energy to spend on continued anger, and so he pushes it back down to annoyance. There is still work to do before he can rest, and so he turns his attention back to removing the other prosthetic.]

I need no assistance that you can provide, not when you can't even defend yourself against words.

[And now, he idly wonders, to see if she will rise to the challenge.]