"Is that conceited or just honest?" There was probably a thin line between the two, but she really couldn't see that he'd be this fine with opening up his home to teach random people how to play music if he was utterly terrible. And really, he seemed to do well enough, especially since he had animal stickers on his teaching piano.
They said patience was a virtue, and most of the time Emma figured that working with people in general really chipped away at that. It wasn't a case of learning to be more patient with people, it was slowly losing what patience you had with people. "She's probably right." Emma was thirty and only just making friends, proper friends, so the ten-year-old probably knew what she was talking about.
Most of the time, it was when people started to have an impact on Emma that she left. When people started to be more important, when someone counted more to her that she packed her bag. Was it ideal? No, it wasn't. It was a scared girl running to stop herself from losing something, and in the process she still lost the important things. But grief never was logical.
"This place seems okay," it seemed a little more than okay at times. Ideal, maybe? It seemed like maybe it could be a home, and the people there could matter. "Everyone is really nice. Weirds me out a little but not in a bad way." It probably spoke more about the type of person Emma was and the people she was used to dealing with that niceness seemed weird to her.
"Does your daughter like it here?" Possibly a bit too personal of a question, but he could always choose not to answer it.