"Something that matters to me?" His voice curls in a protective sort of irony. It is impossible, of course, that she would get a straight answer to that. Something that matters immediately triggers a retreat, a stepping back behind a layer of defense. He will not, as a matter of course, actually ever share anything that truly matters to him. Not sober, at least. And so he says, "I told you I won't sing the lewd songs. And that's all that matters to me, dear girl. Songs about liquor, drugs, and sex."

He lifts one eyebrow, and gives a little sigh, and says, "I suppose I could sing a song popular in my District, though. It's rather charming. Might be something you'd like."