Quentin assumes parade rest, his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands clasped behind his back, he arches an eyebrow at Noah as the boy makes his demands. Quentin's smiles at the young man and his tone is warm if coloured slightly with amusement. "My boy, you are holding what looks to be a very ill-cared for butter knife. I am hardly messing with you, I am simply genuinely curious to see if you can actually do any damage with it." Though he supposed to the young man's eyes that could very well be seen as messing with him.