It's a strange thing—to be both wrong in one direction and correct in another. But there's hardly any shame in modifying one's understanding of a thing, or a person, or whatever you please. And what Mr. Stark doesn't know, he won't needlessly crow over.

"Well, then I suppose I can hardly be expected to argue the point," is all pragmatism as she turns her hand in her lap so the snake can continue to sunbathe in some patch of light dappling her knee.

She looks at him, quite severe.

"But should it ever have to do with myself, or Misters Stark or Fitz or de Foncé or anyone else, then you must say so immediately and I will see about correcting it."