Well, she's not immune to flattery, but it's not like she's lapping it up either. Too bad for Jupe—he'd happily while away the next ten minutes or so piling on compliments. An attempt at changing tacks: he looks out at the crowd of festively flushed faces, trying to spot their Civil Defense Officer among the partygoers.

“No kidding. I had to go door-to-door asking for Kleenex. Felt like the world's saddest, most underdressed trick-or-treater,” he says with a laugh, light and unselfconscious. “But those guys don't get a ton of wiggle room, I'm guessing.” Jupe leaves the statement open-ended, raising his eyebrows just slightly and looking to her for confirmation.