[ At least his rambling gives her a chance to collect herself, because there's a lot to unpack here. Her end of the communion remains a roiling, emotional mess all through his answer, though she's clearly hanging on every word; any (verbal) silence indicative of thought, not disinterest.

For one: the reign of Queen Victoria? Sure, she'd heard of other nations being led by women, but never Britain. Not not then, not now, not ever. Wasn't it the cause of her father's deception, her mother's bitter rage, that neither of them would ever be allowed to rule as they were, and to be accepted as a leader of men?

... In the end, she supposes, it doesn't matter what changed a thousand years down the track. Like a dog guarding a bone, she's just pleased it didn't meet its destruction at anyone else's hand after her death (Regent aside, of course, but she's working on that); and as great as the country he describes is, she can still do better. The thought calms her, and she sounds much more normal when she responds. ]

You're a political advisor as well...? Jeez, is there anything you can't do? [ She seems annoyed and impressed in equal measure. ] ... Hey. Would you consider serving someone else? Not right now, of course, but... ugh, nevermind. I don't know how that would even work.