For the first time since the night she had cut out his eye Michel cracked a smile at her confessions, finding the actual secrets behind the fashion of the wealthy rather amusing himself. However, it slipped into a thoughtful one as he briefly pondered how the mechanics of sex with a live bird in your hair would even work. He figured the best answer to that question was a basic 'not well', which perhaps accounted for the years that went by that she had no child. Nodding, he cleared his throat. "Then she never deserved a head that she just abused. If someone relies that much on ridiculous fashions to make themselves think they look good, they couldn't actually be that good looking anyway."
He would've continued to say that a pretty person needed to only take care of themselves, but he didn't want to give her the wrong sort of idea. Even if he had ever thought she was pretty, calling her that even by an indirect means wouldn't be happening for awhile. "Unfortunately, I've never had the opportunity to soak in any kind of bath, and I don't really have anything for you to read other than sheet music." His words were apologetic, but his tone was far from it. It wasn't exactly bitter either, though. He was too amused by what she was telling him to be offended by it. "I'm almost done though."