Oh, she knows that face, and she knows just what it means. She can't resist laughing, especially after his evasive answer. Too late, Kevin--they win whether you admit it or not. It's clear in the fact that he's sitting here, all covered in purple instead of black. It's clear in the merry way he'd popped right into the middle of the room, nattering delightedly about apples, instead of being off in some corner hissing at anyone who got too close. Here as in her world, he had been loved despite his best efforts, and this fills her with such joy that the customers around her will find their tea suddenly sweeter than it had been, a moment before.

She locks eyes with him, the sort of knowing, loving and triumphant gaze all mothers seem to be equipped with, that says you don't fool me a BIT, young man!

"So," she says, raising a rosegold eyebrows, "you had friends."

She'll take no shit from you, Mr. Regnard! You'd better get used to it.

"Tell me all about them. Tell me about your favorite ones!"

This, more than anything, is what she'd meant about what had changed things. What and who had lifted him up from the man he'd arrived here as--a man she remembered all too well-- and made him into the man he is? The man she doesn't quite know. You can tell a great deal about people from the friends they keep, even if they like to pretend the don't have any.