Scoff. That was about all Gilgamesh could do in response to Artoria's initial comeback. There was even an accompanying twitch of the brow and eyelid, much to the point of his annoyance. "Enough of this," he spoke flatly. Moving right along, his once-preferred hairstyle was still a matter of contention. She harbored no jealousy, eh? Interesting. With narrowed eyes and a smirk most pompous, he shot a glance in the bathing queen's direction. "Then I shall restore the harem, and we shall see where your frustration is pointed. It should be nothing to assemble a few dozen of Mesopotamia's finest wenches just to see your reaction," he said, interestingly without truth despite the ease by which his words were delivered. In modern times, even a hedonist of Gilgamesh's caliber found such a thing infinitely boring compared to his true goal, but... he was always on the lookout for certain kneejerk reactions from this particular woman.

Such a reaction was given, in fact, when he declared the inevitability of their marriage. Was it so rude that fate had been decided? Not one bit, the king thought. "Nonsense. I could have easily seen us wed over a thousand years ago without your consent. This is the long game, and I will play it until the last grain of sand falls. Your consent will be the mark of my victory," he rambled. Gilgamesh had never been a very patient individual, but some thousand years ago, he discovered how worthwhile a bit of additional perseverance could be. It would all be worthwhile one day. The only question was: When was that day to be?

Apparently, that swinging pendulum was affixed to the lungs and composure of Gilgamesh at one end. As it swung, he drank, until that imaginary structure beamed the king and caused the spewing of wine into their bathwater. He coughed only twice, refusing to be steered away from his own outburst. "You WHAT?! Who discovered those damned tablets?! I'll have that dominatrix's head if she translated a single word!"