[She bristles a degree further in reply to his laughter.]

It is merely fact, de Foncé. Compliments have very little to do with it whatsoever, though you may of course write whatever you like down in that little booklet of yours. Honestly, [is a grumbling note largely for herself as she impatiently rises to her stocking feet] as if I would waste my time with any of this if that weren't true.

[Padding around where he sits, Wysteria makes for the overflowing desk. A series of drawers are opened, their contents rustling as she paws through them one handed while yet clutching the shawl about her shoulders.]

I have yet to recopy them into a sensible arrangement, so you will have to make do as they are. I trust that will not be too challenging.