He glances at her, glances at her kimono.
The cliched answer, of course, would be that she has her own life, her own choices now. She can be anyone she wants. There's a lifetime of opportunities.
But that would be an incorrect answer.
He's from an age of arrangements and service. His life is not his own and never has been. He knows she understands - just as she understands exactly what she's asking, and who she's asking.
And so, instead of being reassuring, or trying to convince her of free will, freedom and other such virtues, he kneels down at the table, and gives the correct answer instead.
"Mine."
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