Small blessings, he supposes, that Noctis is too hurt and preoccupied with that to question Ardyn's current state further. Ardyn doesn't even know how Ardyn feels just yet beyond the obvious, but- That's not really anything new in the grand scheme of things.

He scowls a little at the scolding. Partly because Noctis right, but mostly again at himself for fumbling so. The Fae don't seem the sort to really care about a little bloodshed between guests; so long as they follow their silly, arbitrary rules then it should be fine. Hopefully. He may have to get a lecture from Charlie (again) but he almost just anticipates that being a regular occurrence.

"I just thought..." he starts, but stops. Does he need to finish that, really? He thought he'd be the last person Noctis wanted to help him, considering the last five minutes, but apparently he thought wrong. His weapon being dismissed confirms it, even if he can't quite understand why.

He clears his throat, dismissing the previous thought and trying again with: "There should be." More assured than before, somehow, but he still seems a bit lost in all of this. What he should or shouldn't do. His clawed hands curl tightly at his sides, not wanting to put them near Noctis again just in case.