He finally accepts defeat, nods in acceptance of her terms and takes a moment to sip his drink. It allows him to gather himself, to carefully brush away the embarrassment of her praising him to someone else. Something she says, thankfully, presents him with a new topic to steer her onto -- one other than himself.

"When you say rounds...?"

What sort of rounds does a ghost do? He supposes she could easily move from place to place without being seen, which might well be useful.