It takes him a moment, and that is almost worth the whole price of the admission of putting it on. When she has to shift her head, and she's trying her hardest not to laugh, because it's not a double-take, it wasn't, but it's like he's dumbfounded she's actually sitting, having put it all on. The laugh that breaks free when he finally says those three words. At an almost level monotone. Like he hadn't frozen.

But he had. She was incasing that second and a half in gold.

Looking to onside, to keep from not being able to stop laughing, before looking back, as he leaned against the front of his desk, and she reached up to take the black, rubber hat off her head as she shifted back in her own chair. Three words, and it's about as good as she'll get, which absolutely deserves calling on. "Oh, that's high praise from a Wuornos."

That it's that small -- and even more, that she managed to drag it out of him.
Those words. That momentarily, absolutely pinned, flappable silence.