Khaylan arched an eyebrow as Miranda entered the room once more, surprised by how oddly... fitting the dress looked on her. He cast a glance towards the healer, lending some more credence towards her story of Miranda having once been of noble rank herself. He opened his mouth, about to ask Miranda if the story were true or not, and if so, what her side of the tale was, but realized that the healer had spoken to him with the intent of being discreet and so cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to find something else to say. "You look...," he suddenly found himself short of words, an unusual occurrence for him, "I mean... that dress looks good on you..."

And now for the hardest part. "...Milady."

He barely got the word out, his mind stuck on thinking of her as the peasant girl from the streets. The dress helped, but there was quite a bit of history to overcome, and even a simple hesitation like that could end up causing all the wrong questions to get asked to the right people. He berated himself for the slipup and stood up straighter, bowing slightly and throwing on a falsely charming grin. [I]I must treat her as a Lady of the court, with all due respect and honor[/I], he thought to himself, [I]or else we're both dead.[/I]

"Let's try that again, shall we?," he said, "Milady, you truly are looking wonderful today. Is that a new gown? If I might be allowed to say, you'll be the envy of the entire court. I almost fear to bring you lest the noble lords flock to you in droves and block mine own sight of you."

He stood back up, feeling a bit more confidant in this ruse than before. He was surprised at how much of his words, though overly flowered, rang true as he looked at her a second time. She did look good.

[I] The best lies, all have a core of truth to them,[/I] he reminded himself, one of the earliest lessons he had learned at court.