"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot how busy you were being She-Ra!" Catra's voice is dripping sarcasm now. She looks back at the seated Adora. It's more of a glare, truly. There's anger and hurt, but perhaps none of the bile and hatred that might have a short while ago. Mouth set in a grim line, she wavers internally for a moment. Restarting the same circle they had been running in on Etheria might not be the best (it hadn't been a circle, it had been a race and Adora had won. Like always).

"Don't act like you're too good for me. We're stuck here, so you have plenty of time, Adora." Her voice is low and sharp now, some of her anger and hurt leaking into it. She should stop. She should ask to be forgiven. Her pride still stings, though, and her heart still aches and she doesn't know how to make it stop.