The knight's eyes widened when Piers began to laugh. He stared, horrorstruck, mind scrambling over what he had just said, wondering what in his carefully-constructed replies could have gone so wrong. At the best of times he was hardly able to pick up the most obvious of humor; perhaps there had been some elaborate joke woven through the entire conversation, him at the brunt. Maker have mercy, he thought things had just started to take a better turn--
But now Piers was apologizing, mirth still etched in his face. Ordhan listened, wary and stiff, allowing the grip on his knees to relax after a moment (he had not realized his hands were clenched). "I suppose that is a good thing?" he offered weakly. "Honest" was the best of compliments in his mind, and though he was not entirely certain it was meant as one (what in Andraste's name had been so funny?), he decided to take it so. "I am unlikely to ever be involved in politics, or want to," he added with a nervous smile.
Ordhan paused, studying the man's face in the space of a moment before answering, "I am not offended." Confused, perhaps, but not exactly offended. Another pause to banish whatever trace of skepticism or discomfort remained in his expression. "What did you want to know?"