Trish really hoped she wasn't blushing. She had been avoiding most people since she got here, which made her feel like even more of a fool right now. Her first normal interaction with someone outside of drinking, work and the boards and all she did was blush.
"It's beautiful," Trish said looking down at the cloak again. "Well, I suppose in a way the president it like a king, much less grand though. And probably less fun to serve under."
Her smile widened again when he kissed her hand. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him about where he was from, his King - everything. The history nerd in Trish was welling up inside. History, art, literature, fantasy - she loved it all, and wanted to know as much as possible. It was always her dream to one day run her own museum. Where she could spend everyday surrounded by art, history, and literature. Now it was even more appropriate, because running a museum would mean she'd be surrounded by the dead. Which all things considered couldn't be more fitting.
"Trish Wellington, and no debt is required. I'm happy to help," she replied, then his name sunk in. Was he serious? She knew that there were fictional people here (Trish often wondered if she was one herself but was never brave enough to Google her name), but she had never encountered one she was really interested in. "Sorry," her brow furrowed slightly. "Did you say Ser Jamie Lannister?"