He didn't really think of it as boasting. He didn't really do boasting. Anyway, he wouldn't have gotten into it if she hadn't been so insistent, so if that was boasting, so be it. It was the facts, plain and simple. In truth, he was sort of playing the whole thing down as best he could. Frankly, what should have been more impressive in his opinion, was that he'd slipped into French without even realizing it, despite the fact it was a muscle he hadn't flexed in ages. Not that it was more interesting, per se, but still. It was a skill worth bragging about.
"Not really," he said, shaking his head, "but I do have knack for making people angry, which is really the trick as far as these things are concerned." It was less about eloquence and more about imbuing the crowd with righteous anger. "It was a different time. You know, 'the best of times, the worst of times'--Dickens. Now people get real squeamish if you lop off the head of your local despot, even if they're terrible. But I'm not sure I blame anyone. I mean, I'm no murderer." No really. He paused and cocked his head considering her for a moment. "I'm sorry but, are you trying to bury me alive? Because I gotta tell you, it's been done. You'll have to try harder." This was said with a trace of amusement in his voice, but also in all seriousness.