"Oh that!" she said dismissively about her singing, even as she turned as red as the Rising Sun that was featured on the flag of her birth mother's home country... "I mean -- sorry you had to hear that, sir...! I was just trying to -- you know, entertain myself, try to relax a little: before you came in..." She chuckled throatily, her voice already sounding with its magnetic notes of charisma as she spoke again: "I mean, I WAS moonlighting as a Broadway star-- sorta, at least... What was LEFT of Broadway, at any rate...!"
Then, of course, she shook herself, realising that the man had already tricked her into talking up her own problems, rather than listening to his. "I mean, sorry, Mister Bond, sir... I wasn't meaning to take the spotlight off of you so to speak!" She chuckled again, and gestured towards the sofa, where she'd already set aside some pillows to prop Mr Bond up if he felt like lying down, like in those classic psycho-analysis tableaux.... "Please, have a seat, Mister Bond. Tell me what-- well, tell me about your most prominent bad memory. Please..." she added softly, as she saw him undoubtedly hesitate, "Just -- tell me..." She turned on the charisma, deliberately now, in order to charm him into talking...