He doesn't have to say any more than perfect before she wants to groan. Slowly, slowly, she's growing more comfortable around him--or, maybe more accurately, everything Byerly's suggesting is starting to sound so insane that her concerns about him aren't at the front of her mind anymore. She's not so comfortable that she's moved from where she's standing, still out of arm's reach, but her thoughts have shifted, and so has the light in her eyes. She has to talk him out of this before it becomes some big...thing.

"Isn't pretending to be noble the kind of thing people get executed for?" It seems like it probably is. From what he's said, and from what she knows, people with titles--whether they're Lord So-and-so or Officer or Doctor--have plenty of reasons to worry about who else tries to claim the same name. (Not everyone, of course. Daddy always taught others whatever he could, and Rick cared (cares, he's still out there) more about what people did than what they called themselves. But all these Vors? That's different.) "There has to be an easier way to get a knife."