[ She can't quite dignify that with an answer straight away - flattering is part of the course of royalty especially, for it to mean very much to her. She snatches her drink up again, draining it dry before she takes up the bottle again to fill her cup, and as she speaks tips it a little to ask if he wanted more himself.

She might not be completely immune to it, as she pretends most of the time. It's ridiculous, but that's the point. Watching him again, carefully. ]

It feels like it some times. Then I remember how my clothes would stick to me at times, I wanted nothing but to throw myself into the rain for some relief, and I do have to wonder who has the right of it. [ But she misses it all the same, doesn't need to say it. That much is plain. ] And you, Marquis, is it true all frenchmen are so charming, or are you particularly gifted?