There is a flicker of something—guilt, concern—at the mention of Pel, a quick sideways eye dart in case she happens to be right there where he can check on her wellbeing without giving Adelaide the satisfaction of him whipping his head around in frantic search. He did warn her, anyway, that he was no good for this.

"You hurt me, Lady LeBlanc," he drawls, turning his attention back to her, and releases her with one hand to touch his chest. "Right here."

And right here is a cheerful foot trample.

"But if you think I can make trouble for the Inquisition, you're giving me too much credit." He grins. "Not to mention I'm handsome enough to get away with being eccentric."