[ Her delight at seeming him wearing the gifts she had given him so proudly is obvious, her gaze sweeping over him as her eyes lift and she beams. She's glad that he likes them, glad that the simplicity of it hasn't been lost on him or made him think they weren't worth the effort. She had thought practicality would be more his design than something silly or sentimental and she seemed to have been proven right on that count.

Hermione shifts, allowing herself the politeness of a formal curtsey, a Marchioness' boon, before she steps into the room properly and nods her head. ]

It's lovely to see you too, Gilgamesh.

[ She lets her eyes settle on the broach, the dagger, before her arms cross over her chest and she tilts her head, looking him over. When she finally gets closer, nodding her head, she's practically alight with her happiness. Sometimes the simple pleasure of gift-giving could be the most wonderful gift itself -- and she had never had so many people to give gifts to before. ]

I'm glad you like your presents - if that's what your wearing them means. I'd love to join you, of course. Are we talking or are you going to eat a dozen cakes again?