She smiles crookedly when he starts talking, and it only grows with every word he says. Eventually, she's laughing, quiet and bemused.

"I meant," she whispers, shifting closer to him. "I don't look like much of a lady. Not a proper one. I don't have a fine closet no more, or the reputation t'match."

She quirks her mouth again, though her expression is a bit sad.

"Y'really think I'm a masterpiece?"