From his lowered point of view, Tyrion looked up at the Queen of dragons with almost awe in his eyes. Mostly caused by the fact that the knowledge of her age compared to his wife's was not lost on him. And, though he saw Sansa as a strong and capable young woman, the way Daenerys carried herself was indeed different from anything he'd seen out of a relatively young girl in quite some time. With an air of a ruler, for sure - intimidating, but not in the fear-invoking way his nephew tried to play at. It left him with a feeling of comfort and relief, which gave him room to admire her demanding beauty as well.
A crooked smile appeared on his lips in reflection of hers, which froze in place as he registered what she'd actually said. So it was true, this thing about differences in people's histories. Something he did not remember that she clearly did, though she was years younger than him could only mean she was lying or from another point in time altogether - and spotting liars was one of Tyrion's favorite hobbies. She certainly seemed to believe herself, so either she was insane, or...
Everything Tyrion thought he knew about the world was a complete lie. Which, according to Marrowood itself, it already was. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing. It just required a bit more thought to wrap his head around. But, more importantly, he had to know whatever she knew. Last he was aware, he was about to be beheaded, and now this woman claimed to know him. It was pertinent that he knew how.
"Oh?" He chimed, his brows raising over already curious eyes. "And where might that have been? My beheading? My funeral, perhaps? Because I know for a fact you and I have never met in my history. What's different about yours?"