To say she was impressed was an understatement, but Marguerite was very good about hiding this. She made no obvious expressions like he had done, painfully so, when he saw her. She did not say anything about his good taste and was finding herself a bit annoyed by how pleased she was with him.
She expected less, what with his writing lacking refinement, lacking the cleverness she expected from.. what was he, a Ravenclaw? She had read this before, and knew the house to be one of brilliance and wit. He seemed more like those audacious Gryffindor types, really.
Frustrated as she might have been, she was still looking forward to at least one possible ending to this night, though she refused to think much of it. If it happened.. she was prepared, if not she wouldn't be too disappointed. So when he placed his arm around her seat she did shift the smallest bit to be closer. A leg crossed over the other and a hint of her upper thigh was flashed in the process.