[She looks a little skeptical - bodes well for him? What does he think she's going to do with this information? - but she'll accept that he's probably had to explain improbably-sized elephants (or possibly a very detailed stress-induced phantasmagoria) more times than he'd like.]

So you're the only... flatworlder you've met here? [Even as she asks, she waves off her own question. He just. Prompts them, really.] No, nevermind.

Thank you for explaining. [For some value of explaining. Guiltily,] Can I get you a drink or something? No more questions. Or interest. I promise.

[She'd worried he'd had too much when she first met him, and now she's really considering that it might be in the other direction.]