[He'd take that nod, recognizing in it that it's all he's likely to get -- she was fiercely independent, and that's what he liked about her, after all.]

Oh? [He shifted a little to lean on a hip, folding his hands on the edge of the couch -- not touching her! -- and resting his chin atop them. He was contemplating both her and her words, turning the whole situation over in his head.] You've hinted before that you might be bad luck for me. Are you saying that you are more than superstition?