Normally he'd have just the right, pacifying words to say. Any other time he'd skillfully deflect the question and take ownership of the conversation before she'd realize what's going on.

Unfortunately this isn't "any other time," and after recent events he's not exactly in the mood for his friendly act. Coming back to the Sanctum and seeing his so-called flightmates wasting their time having a party is bad enough-- but this?

"It sounds -- and smells -- as if you've had a little too much to drink. I said no such thing," Qilby replies acidly, flinging the flowers back on the table. He looks down his nose at Apollo, matching her narrow-eyed glare with one of his own. "And even if I did, what are you complaining about? You seemed more than willing to take orders from me before, and I'm certainly more than qualified to give them."