[ It appeals - as a woman, if not a queen. A queen would never be turned by such things, and she never had - after all, she had been married as soon as it had been time. Her mind taken up by ruling, and then all that came afterwards. She expects something decent from him after all, flattering her, and yes, yes any other time, she would raise her eyebrow at him, shift her shoulders into something clearly dismissive for what she never had much time for. But they're not here for any other time, so if just this once, she gives into the pleased feeling that settles in her belly. Right now she is as he describes her, no more, no less, and he is no more than the honey on his tongue.

An old bad habit, that when she had decided she wanted something, that she became fixed on it. It had no lessened in the years, the matter now is more what she intends about it. ]

Better than my poets. [ Not charmed easily, and yes, yes never to be trifled with except when she lets someone do so. Her terms, her battlefields, twisting them to suit her. ] I suppose if that's true - I need not warn you of thorns. [ Since he'd worked that all by himself already. ] I would hate for you to slice yourself on them. [ Soft, as she hangs the warning in front of him, like a promise more than a threat. He will, of course he will. ]