"Enough to get by." And it was. He'd trade a meal for work any day, though he did remember at least one item she had obtained. Though it wasn't edible or perhaps even useful, he rather liked the book of sheet music she had given him. Tilting his own head and pulling her a bit closer to the light, he tried to look over one tangle before just jerking it out blindly. What she told him lingered on his mind for that moment. Perhaps she was right, but he still had his doubts. He'd be fairly good at breaking into people's houses if he needed to. But then again maybe he was happy enough where he was. Just a bit dissatisfied and feeling more trapped in a specific lifestyle than he actually had before.
Michel made a face when he tried to imagine her in the style she described. "That's just tacky. How would anyone even begin to lie down with all of that?" He decided, though he really did wonder how in the world they managed such a style with natural hair. He had always assumed that all of the rich wore wigs. As refined as he liked to imagine his tastes were, he never understood those sorts of fads. He appreciated classy, but never gaudy. Of course, that was an easy opinion to come from someone of his financial limitations.
In comparison, he might have actually had it easier than her in that sense. No one ever cared about what he looked like when he was a child. Well, no one other than himself. "I certainly didn't have to worry about that I was younger. My mother would just stick a bowl on my head and hope for the best. Eventually she'd get the back straightened out."