He knows her tells for nerves by now, and takes note of them, but he's also pretty busy staring at the cases in the bag. He doesn't recognize any of the names-- this is an entirely different world; their classical jazz and swing wasn't performed by Glenn Miller and Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra-- but he's sure what Entrapta is saying is right. He hugs the bag on his lap against his stomach, since he can't hug her.

(He kind of wants to hug her. He knows it would be a bad idea, but the urge it still there.)

"Entrapta. Thank you. This is... it's amazing. Thank you."