[He huffs indignantly, tossing a tress of hair that had started to spill over his shoulder.]

What makes you think it would be information I would use? Honestly, you flatter yourself.

[More! Gossip!]

Do not act as though you’d be any more forthcoming if I asked about your current preferences. You are a closed book, Primrose, and I am merely trying to pry open your pages.