"I think," he says acidly, "that we have differing definitions of 'civil.'"
He would just as rather she have kept the hood on, really. She's...distracting without it. (Not pretty. No. 'Pretty' is for women who don't infuriate him like this.) Even if that look makes him want to kick the table leg until it hurts.
He doesn't feel like finishing his ale.
"You make it sound as though I drew my sword upon you and ordered you to duel. What weapon other than words have I used on you?"