That was a start, and one Tony could enthusiastically count off one finger because she had left that subject broad. That meant he could go straight for his favourite, "Have you been to The Cloisters?", genuinely excited and hand on his heart as he melted back into his seat, reaching his free hand for the shoulder of her chair to keep himself grounded. "It's exquisite, it's transformative. By the end of a picnic in the gardens, you'll think you are Guinevere." With a deep breath to draw him out of his reverie, head still tipped back on the chair, he turned just enough to look her over and say, "Look at you, you could already be some medieval weaver's muse," hands cupped in front of him like he could mold a perfect cast of her round, pale face.