Judging by the slight darkening of that lingering colour on his cheeks, it is not entirely lost on him. He can be blind to some things, certainly; but even so, he is not entirely oblivious. Certainly not now that he has finally cottoned on to her interest. He clears his throat, and looks down at his own coffee, biting the inside of his cheek.

Question. She asked him a question. Easier, then, to focus on that, and not on his embarrassment.

"I find I have very little but time, since I moved here." Since my father's passing, he almost says, but that feels inappropriate to the moment. "But if you mean, do I often go out for meals with beautiful young women from coffee shops? No. I do not." There is, perhaps, a hint of that same dry humour in his smile, although if so, it is certainly aimed at himself rather than anyone else. "I live a very boring life, I'm afraid."