*continues to eye Erestor with suspicion a.k.a. murderous intent* And what, sir, if you will perchance be so passing good as to answer goodly my inquiring, is your professional work job position in my son's court? Cop O'Feel, Personal Bodygrope of the Royal Ladies?
*to you, less nonsensically loftily* My dear lady, ain't I free to come and go as I please, as you are?