Her eyes narrow at the remark, lips pursing into a thin line before she hums in acknowledgment of the introduction. Choosing to believe that her disapproval is stemming more from the fact that she's in a strange situation she doesn't quite yet understand how to navigate, rather than anything else, like jealousy.

Trying not to look as irate about being kissed on the head as she feels, Aerith nods mutedly after Balthier's remark.

"Beg your pardon," she mutters icily, looking back down at her ale.