She wasn't actually expecting him to respond with relevant information. It makes sense, and that puts her slightly on the back foot. She doesn't like appearing out of sorts, though, so she forces herself to recover quickly-- a spell of blinking, a moment's hesitation, and she's at it again.

(So he's gay, and his father's a vicar, but the boring kind of vicar, because he has a kid. Or his dad's just a very bad Catholic.)

"That's fine," she says, because it's as close as she can get to saying I'm fine with gays. Kindness, acceptance, it all feels like opening her rib cage and letting anyone reach around for trinkets. "You can ask if I said anything fucked. I'm from America. The bad parts. It's 2018. World War Three isn't totally imminent."