"You'd make a man list his faults at breakfast?" it's very clear he's still jesting, hand over his heart as though she's mortally wounded him, "You are as cruel as you are beautiful."

He sets his elbow on the table a moment later, arm up so his chin can rest in his palm, head tilted to the side as he looks at her,

"That I'm too loud by half for a proper Ishgardian elezen. That I lack the propriety I ought to have as a member of one of the High Houses," there's a shift in his tone, something warmer, "That I'm overfond of hiring the services of foreign adventurers," another shift, "That I show one in particular a scandalous amount of favor. Things such as that."