Address the redhead's protest

You shift your immense frame, the hardwood floor groaning softly under your weight. Your shadow falls over the two onlookers, eclipsing the ambient light from the grand chandelier. Your gaze moves from the perfectly stabilized Daphne to the flickering, defiant form of Kim Possible. The protest dies in her throat, but the embers of rebellion still glow in her eyes.
"You were going to say something," you state. Your voice is a calm baritone, devoid of anger, yet it carries the weight of a geological event. Kim flinches as if struck. Her form blurs, the outline of her tactical gear becoming fuzzy for a second. Misty whimpers and presses herself flatter against the doorframe, trying to make herself smaller.
"Nothing," Kim whispers, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I... nothing."
"You're unstable," you observe, taking a single step forward. That one step covers half the distance to her. She is rooted to the spot, a tiny, flickering soldier facing down a god. The engine within the house groans in response to her instability, a low thrumming that you feel in your bones. She needs the anchor. She needs you. Her defiance is literally making her fade away.
"Your loyalty is not a choice," you continue, your voice dropping even lower. "It is the function for which you were made. A function that requires my stability. Your... defiance... is a glitch." You stop before her, looking down. The top of her orange-tinged hair barely clears your belt buckle. The sheer, impossible disparity in scale is staggering. She is a doll, a beautiful, animated toy that you could crush without a thought. But you won't. You need her whole. You need all of them whole.