A pout on her face, Penelope peers at Ilde through her eyelashes, batting them a bit. If a facial expression could be facetious, this is it.

"It's been one of those months, my dearest, most favorite ever client." She stows her (fashionable, black leather, enormous) bag under the table and unfolds her napkin, stuffing it into her lap. You know, ladylike. "How've you been since I last saw you? Horrors?"

She just assumes.