[ Narrowing his eyes, he searches her face for a moment, like she can't really be completely dismissing everything he'd just said. After a moment, though, he comes to the conclusion that she can. ]

Really? You're just choosing to ignore everything I— [ He throws up his hands. ] Okay, fine, whatever. [ For a second, it looks like he's about to let it go, but then he holds up a finger. ] Listen, I'm just saying— [ The finger curls back to join the rest in a weak fist, and he exhales, lips pressed together tightly. ] You know what, never mind, let's talk about your thing instead of my thing.

[ Muttered bitterly under his breath, still loud enough to easily make out: ] My thing's more important, though.

[ Closing his eyes, he takes a breath, like Lexa's lack of reaction has him rattled. (It does, because somehow, she has immediately figured out the best way to push his buttons.) After the breath is over, he opens them again, looking away from her. ]

So, your question. Short answer: no. But, [ he adds, not wanting to seem incompetent. (Even though he is.) He can tell she doesn't think much of him, probably sees him as an albatross around the brood's metaphorical neck. Despite their clashing, he can't help wanting her regard. ] Long answer: technically, maybe not, but I'm a good improviser.