His compliments have always carried more weight for Lydia because of the way that he's seen her. Before the implants and moving forward from here, Matt sees her with the tips of his fingers, with his lips, with his ears. He knows her maybe better than most people because he has to in order to see her at all. A little smile, just this side of bashful, pulls up at the corners of her mouth at his greeting. "You're gonna be great," she promises. Lydia firmly believes it, too. Something has to give. Matt works too hard and something has to give at some point; he's got to win something sometime, doesn't he? Just by sheer odds?

When he brings up her day, Lydia laughs softly, her eyebrows lifting. "Yeah, now I know how retail employees feel on Black Friday and how a salon feels on the wedding day when they close shop to cater to a huge bridal party all at once," she replies with a grin. "But you know what? It feels good. And not just because I totally made bank today. I mean...seeing all the excitement on people's faces and feeling it in the air and stuff when they came in, like something really special was going to happen tonight and they were going to be a part of it, I don't know. It was a good feeling being able to facilitate some of that to some small capacity," she admits.

It's why she's a Humanist in the first place. The day and the response to the Charity Ball itself is only validating her choice to join the secret society.

Lydia takes a step back, taking his hands in her own and guiding him toward the dance floor. "Dance with me?" she asks.