Oh, god, the 'Miss' is back. The urge to address it is stronger than ever, but she's not sure how to correct him without coming across as either discouraging (as if she's still wholly devoted to a husband she never expects to see again) or presumptuous (as if it's absolutely vital that she emphasize her availability right out of the gate). She settles on a third option -- one that might also be presumptuous, considering the company, but at least it's a normal enough request by Darrow's standards.

"'Greta' is fine," she says, softening the gentle insistence with a smile. As flattering as it is to be presumed worthy of such pretty manners, she's still just a baker. She'll probably only be able to take so much before it starts to feel more mocking than sincere, no matter how kindly it's meant. "And I'm glad you invited me. I didn't even know this place was here."

She ducks her head to hide a grin as he pulls out her chair for her (knowing the consideration might start to grate on her later doesn't preclude enjoying it now), then huffs out a quiet, amused breath over the thought of what to order. This won't be anything like a coffeeshop, with their token handful of options. "Dare I ask how many varieties there are? Is there a menu?" She's half-joking, but there is genuine curiosity beneath the dry humor.