[He watches her grab the butterknives (she's not choosing now to get violent, is sh— ... oh, thank goodness) and blinks slowly over his teacup as she rolls up her skirt. What's with those expert movements? He's still not sure what kind of girl she is, other than "surly" and "in love with her brother," but he wasn't expecting her to be this type.

Her question makes one thing abundantly clear, however.]

... nope!

[A smile spreads again, and he answers her cheerfully. Him, having combat experience? Nope, not unless you count live duels! He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he hates to break a nail. Other people ought to do all the fighting for him.

Like her, for example.]

But it sounds like you do, which means our way forward is clear.

[Drumroll, please.]

I'll create a diversion, and you'll deal with the guards and such!