[ Without hesitation: ]

I refuse. You said I could spend the night, and I’m holding you to that. You can’t renege on an invitation, that’s rude.

[ He keeps scolding, until he’s got his charge safely inside. Somehow he has the idea that chastising, rather than pleading, will be more effective, given Archer’s state of mind. He frowns. Archer—because he had his cloak borrowed by somebody— is covered in snow, stuck to his armor and his hair. ]

Sit.

[ He points to a chair. It’ll be easier to towel this tall knight off if he’s seated. ]