He stumbles forward with the shove but catches himself quickly enough. A turn on his heel and he's smiling as he twirls around to face the other man. He's also twirling that dagger from before in one of his hands, which he seemingly re-obtained somehow between the initial tackle and now.

"Most people are," he says, "even if most also don't live to speak of my capabilities." If they do, it's usually an intentional decision on his part. They served his purposes better alive than dead; it's one of the reasons why Noctis' little ragtag group of friends yet lived. Despite how annoying they could be, they were necessary to guide the king towards his rightful path.

"But I'm feeling generous since it's been a while: Why don't you make the first move?"