Honest to God, Arthur sometimes wondered how Merlin had survived a relationship in which the other person didn't possess enough grace to offset his complete lack of it. He shifted his leg a bit in a bid to avoid getting anywhere near a position that would herald that ignoble fate.

"Merlin," he said, kindly, as that sponge made a distinct downwards slide (which was not to say Arthur wasn't being thorough on the way, because he was), "I distinctly remember us just talking earlier about this idea of you knowing anything about this." Beat. "I am not smarmy." Beat. "And I'm far too poised to be silly."