Wait... what? She was from Kansas? No wonder she seemed, smelled, and strolled differently than all the other plastic, heartless bitches that Orange County bought out, and sold out in bulk like novelty 'daddy's little princess' mugs and license plate holders. It was visible that he was taken aback temporarily by that sweet little cornflower revelation, pursing his features as if he were forced a too tart lemonade down the throat by a birthday clown amusing kids, but, being well aware of the blunt trajectory of his natural 'I'm from Kansas' reaction, he soothed the possible burn just as swiftly. He was a diplomat, after all, or so the resume said. Thus, the silver tongue for organized appeasing words and misdirections, like any true child of politics. "Dorothy?" ah, was that why he reacted in such a way? "I think I did better as the scarecrow, personally. Really the highlight of my dance career, if you ask me." and, both brows up for her trigger, he watched her as they dodged or weaved passerby with their little shit pomeranians.
"I honestly can't remember if you mentioned being from Kansas, if I read it, or if that was all a coincidence. I just mentioned that whole Wizard of Oz thing so you wouldn't have to live with a lie anymore. I'm just being your hero, baby. Like Enrique."
He was, of course, still on with his 'act.' and adjusted his collar by scrolling a single finger along the rotary of it.