That gets a tiny snort out of him. "If you're volunteering for another round, well."

Alistair ventures a sip of water. Concentrates on the smooth, solid feel of the jar as he cradles it in both palms. "No, honestly, I think I only ever wanted to trip you. Or get a good smack across the back of the head."

He saves the punches for moments of true anger. (Or moments when he's unarmed and being swarmed by demons.) Mere annoyance doesn't require something that...definitive.