Homelander rolled his eyes.
He had no interest whatsoever in this ugly muscle-bound man who loved showing off.
In the usual Marvel Universe, faced with such provocation, he might have played along to harvest some Popularity Points.
But in this universe, he was only a passing visitor staying briefly. He had no need to care about any public image, nor did he care about those insignificant Popularity Points.
If America had not been standing beside him, requiring him to maintain his great and righteous persona a little, then the moment he had glanced over earlier, two beams of Heat Vision would already have sliced this musclebound show-off into three pieces.
"Get lost." Homelander did not even spare Yujiro Hanma another glance.
Then he turned around, preparing to continue discussing the search for Charles Xavier with Trump.
"Heh heh, you don't get to decide that."
Yujiro moved.
His body left an afterimage where he stood, and the sheer explosive force of his muscles brought him instantly to Homelander's side.
His iron-forged claws shot toward the back of Homelander's head.
Trump shut his eyes in terror, as though he could already see the head of the man draped in Stars and Stripes bursting like a watermelon.
But nothing happened.
There was only a dull smack.
Trump cautiously opened his eyes.
Homelander had casually reached his right hand behind him, his palm firmly clamped around Yujiro's absurdly thick wrist.
"Hm?"
Yujiro narrowed his eyes slightly.
He felt as though his wrist was not being gripped by a human hand, but embedded in a solid iron block weighing hundreds of tons.
No matter how much strength he exerted, that wrist would not move an inch.
"I already told you." Homelander had finally exhausted the last of his patience with this relentlessly pestering ugly muscleman.