Curious; it's like a light coming on when Irene gets to how she recognized her. It's not that she'd looked unfriendly a moment ago, just that she'd been oddly blank, doll-like, like she hadn't quite caught up with the moment to react to it-- then she has a solid reference point to go from and that moment passes like shuttered lamplight, a key turning somewhere and the right reaction plugged in.

(Sometimes it's more obvious than others how much of Ilde's public affect is-- just that, the charming persona for public consumption that Ivan had described.)

"I remember," she says, smiling, resting her hands together without putting her elbows on th table because somebody took the time to make sure those etiquette and comportment lessons stuck and they tend to linger, even in her posture sitting in a restaurant at five in the morning after a very, very long night out. "I don't think I got your name-- I'm Ilde. Ilde Decima. Do you want to--?" Join her?