[What was that? It sounded like 'please put it all in my hair Alistair' and he aims to please. The fact that he has it sliding uncomfortably down his chest under his shirt and matting his hair and getting in his eyes only dims his smile a little. Then a little more as he tries to scrub his eyes clear with - ow! - equally muddy hands.]

I'm helping you relax. [And cheering her up but the whole point was not to think about unpleasant subjects so he's not going to say that.] And keeping you on your toes.

[There was no telling when she might find herself battling a larger, stronger opponent in some slippery, muddy battlefield. Looking at it that way, he was doing her a favour. She should be thanking him. Not chewing on him.

Sitting back on his heels, Alistair raises his hands defensively and cringes back in defeat.] I yield! Your fangs are too sharp for me. Please don't hurt me.