She's not above preening. Milady stands as if posed, letting him look as he wishes to. This is good for her ego, it's true, when so much else is unsure.

"It is from Paris," she tells him. "In fact ... " She turns to meet his eyes - how can his eyes be so kind? She is unused to that, even more so than she had been the years ago when they met. "This is your shop? If it is, I do hope to utilize your expertise."