For that, Aramis does deserve a punch, and Porthos sits back, letting go of his wrist to land a relatively soft one in his stomach (soft because he wants it to be, not because his strength fails him yet again), before standing back up. "I'd have better taste than the likes of you," he retorts as he heads back for the wine, and takes a long, happy drink before holding the bottle out to Aramis. A peace offering, so to speak, if Aramis will shut up about such things. Porthos is certainly not in the market for suitors, and never intends to be.