"Oh, your favourite shirt, terribly sorry," replies Arthur, affronted and without any sincerity in his sarcasm at all. He rolls his eyes. She'd ruined his face. It was definitely his favourite face.

But he cannot hold a grudge. They were training, and she beat him — he's knighted men for the same.

Neither can he completely let go of his ego, though. There is a small part of Arthur who thinks his defeat was likely a fluke.

"Don't get too cocky," he says, because she sounds a little bit miserable. "I've had far worse."