She smiled as she took the glass, momentarily distracted by the motion. It took a moment, then, for the compliment to register: Never had she thought of herself in such terms, and indeed saw herself as neither of those things. Strengths she had, of course, the same as anyone. But these strengths were less tangible things than beauty, and certainly more grounded than being desirable or interesting. She was practical, she knew; she was an exceptional caregiver, capable and dedicated. But these same qualities made her the dullest of her siblings: She was mud where they were fire. Where they stirred passions, she calmed them; soothed where they aroused. She was pleased enough with this, proud of the role she had played in their lives, in the lives of her friends. Long years of seeing herself in this light left Karin vexingly unable to respond, struck dumb by a concept she had not faced in years. Not since Texas, she thought, the blush returning to her cheeks with a vengeance. It had been easier to field such conversation while drunk - that much she recalled with perfect clarity.
"Thank you," she said, belated. She hoped her delay would not make him feel self conscious or fear that his compliment was not accepted - off the mark though she may have considered it. His kindess was as appreciated as the rest of the day had been, and she had no desire to make him feel otherwise. "I promise I'm not that interesting," she said, hoping to defuse the moment with a quiet, self deprecating laugh. "Unless you see me at work, I guess. Then it's all chaos and disorder, and me right in the middle of it."