[The book is tossed on the table with a solid sound, the Frenchma pushing his chair back a bit to look at his surly companion better before he stood. Ah, eye to eye. It's lovely being the same height, isn't it darling?]

You could pretend, for once, to want me here. I apologize for coming here in hopes of doing something useful. I should have known that if it involved that shaggy, over-inflated facade of yours it would be moot!

[He didn't WANT this, England. He wants to be home. He could deal with your bitter whining and petty arguments better if he was, but as it is no. He can't. He's not sorry for stepping around you either to get to the exit-]