( It's almost like he's sassing her, or fighting back, rather than slinking around what he doesn't want to face, and it's refreshing. Suddenly faced with this, it's almost like she perks up, back a fraction straighter and a quicksliver flash of a smirk crossing her lips. This quickening of amusement lingers, too, as she stops writing and turns to face him, pen poised halfway through the looping arc of a g.

Very carefully, she puts her pen down and observes him. She does not speak, and for this handful of seconds, if he cannot read her odd interest in his response, then perhaps it might seem up in the air whether her examination is truly over or not. Her concern of that is suspended however, for this moment, while she seeks his gaze and means to hold it.

And, when she is satisfied with that, primly shifting, she returns without a word to resume her work.

At least the cold sweats are gone. The threatened sluice down her spine felt like icicles raking the small of her back. )

And I hope you are satisfied with yourself. A clean bill of health. But with some caveats.

( She lapses into one more silence filled with the scratching of her pens, a possibly scathing sound with so little else to distract from it. Then, finally, she turns to face him fully with her hands clasped in her lap. )

Thank you for coming to see me, Givoanni, and allowing me to examine you.