There's a questioning shimmer at the idea of popcorn, but the sentiment of him watching the scene while being amused comes through loud and clear.

"Let us be perfectly clear, my love. It doesn't matter what impression you make on my father. I would prefer it if he liked you, yes, because it would make your life easier in the long run. But you are my choice. And he knows -- or rather, he should know -- he get's no say in the matter."

There's still a lick of white hot rage there, woven deep in the memory, but it's an old rage. A familiar rage.