Her skin feels tight as he looks her over, her dress suddenly made of needles for a moment - and then just as suddenly it goes, and she smiles dreamily at him as he describes how he translates her physical being onto parchment.

"You see beauty..." she murmurs, not sure if she's being complimented or not. Indecision hurts her happy floating brain, and she reaches for her glass to drown it out, draining it in a single elegant motion. "S'all anyone ever sees."

Her feet stop swinging.

"Pretty face, pretty figure, pretty hair, pretty eyes, isn't Narcissa so lovely." Her feet begin to swing again. "Do you see me? Or just pretty Cissy Black?"

She hates that name.