[He can tell that it's not completely the truth, but he also knows that prying for an honest answer is the worst thing he can do in this case. He's mad, sure, but he tries not to be cruel. Ianchus presses his lips together, his voice level, serious and low.]

Doctor Disraeli, I apologize. Truly. Can I get you some water?

[He motions to the tent. He doesn't even think of the wine bottle he's discarded]