Alexander laughed at the chastisement, deep guffaws the he tried to keep quiet, succeeding only partially. "Guess we weren't, eh?". Alexander could tell he would like the guardsman already. He gave of the impression that he knew what he was doing, and he wasn't some prick nobleman don't know he's born.

He made to respond to the guardsman, but the tall lass beat him to it. No reason to speak left, he kept quiet, waiting to see what was going to happen. He hefted his clattering pack onto his back, and made to shoulder his sword. His hand was halfway to the hilt when he realized that he himself would have a struggle fitting comfortably in the hall himself, let alone with two feet of sword sticking up over his head. Changing the trajectory of his hand slightly, he gripped the blade tight on the ricasso, fastidiously keeping the tip towards the grounds and away from anything he didn't want to accidentally stab, ready to presumably follow the guardsman to wherever they needed to go.

The angry response from the berated man caught Alexander off guard. Yelling at your employer was not an intelligent means of getting hired, and made one look like a colossal arse. Alexander was ready to dismiss it as nerves, or just an unpleasant disposition, and move on, but that opinion changed when he saw one of the man's hands move into his coat. That was bad; anyone that could get angry enough to draw a blade over an argument was no man Alexander wanted serving near him, and someone willing to threaten an employer with violence in broad daylight was even worse. Alexander tensed slightly, his eyes boring into the back of the man's head, his free left hand ready to snap out and grab the rude entrant, already planning how to disarm and disable him without endangering anyone. He could feel the faintest tinge of adrenaline seeping into his perception, and his mood went from cheerfully jovial to the ice-cold mix of anger and fear that came before a fight.