"Pfft, that's outdated. It's 1939, for Chrissakes! People who think that ought to get with the times. Do you know, in Paris, in the cabarets, we have lots of dancing girls, and they're stars. You could go there, you're better than them anyway. You could be a real célébrité." he said encouragingly. His enthusiasm made it known that he genuinely believed what he said. He let out a snerk of laughter at her comment regarding the flowers. "Ha, well, you know what I mean."
He listened with interest as she spoke of growing up here, and though he felt a pang of pity imagining spending her whole life in this tiny space, he kept that to himself - quite the feat, considering how wasted he still was.
"Your mother must have been a lovely woman," he said solemnly, when she mentioned that she had 'lived' there in past-tense. He accepted the glass of sherry when she offered to him, and raised it to clink against hers.
"À la votre!" he replied brightly, then had a sip, not noticing anything was amiss.
He bit his lip, just a little bit of his characteristic self-consciousness returning. "Thanks so much for you know, talking to me and stuff. And having me over. This was fun."