Grinning, Allegra spread her arms to address an invisible audience. "Yet he hires me based solely on evidence of charm and joie de vivre." The grin waned for a moment; she hadn't meant to slip into the familiar, old-learned accent. Allegra was usually very careful to avoid French terms, sounds--or anything else likely to evoke the memory of her godmother. A heartbeat later, her expression was back in cheer. "Clearly, whatever bathroom wall bears my name and number was worth the advertising fee."
She glanced with open curiosity at the imp. "I thought there'd be ears. Pointy, cute ears. Unless--wait, that's elves not imps. Wrong slave system. It's funny how the two always seem to overlap in my head..."
With an easy push, Allegra bounced up onto a short, unpacked crate and looked at the man--*He isn't*--with an expression not unlike that she'd turned on the imp. "Pretending, hmm. In a different sort of mouth that'd sound downright sad. So why does it sound like a fat, ol' joke in yours, chief?"