He actually does feel better having it acknowledged. (And from having his cooking complimented.) Obliquely discussing your way through intricate social duels has never been a skill of his. "The formality is about usual," he admits a little hollowly. He's a minor nobleman who's used to everyone despising him. Formality was all he had most of his life and death. It's a brittle shield, but better than nothing.

"Awkward, though, yes, that's... That's specific to the moment." He can appreciate other people's directness, but he doesn't deploy it very well. He regrets putting his hair up now. It's something to hide behind. He folds his hands on his lap so he doesn't fidget.