"No, I-" Aire assumed she hadn't heard him begin to speak again or either didn't care, as she'd turned away from him and began peeling potatoes. A thin, pale hand hovered over the servant's back as he longed to place it upon her if anything in a comforting way. He swallowed past a thick buildup of anxiety in his throat and took a deep, but silent breath through his nostrils. He was well aware of the servant's fears of getting dismissed from her work - most of them possessed the same fear, for the common way for one to be "dismissed" was through execution. The hand fell back to his side, and he looked around the kitchen, seeing no other occupants.

His voice lowered, and he spoke in a hushed tone, "You- You don't have to be so formal anymore." He chewed nervously on his bottom lip, eyebrows knit together in worry. "At least, not while we are alone. You- I mean, [i]I[/i] was being very rude and unfair this morning - not-not that I'm supposed to be [i]fair[/i] to mere [i]servants[/i], per se-"

Horrified at his sudden awkwardness, Aire sputtered and squeezed his eyes shut to get his mental bearings. When he opened them again, he said, "I am, uh, I'm glad you're feeling better."