You're worse than evil. You're <i>inefficient</i>. - Lois McMaster Bujold

“You know what I like best about you, Ivan Xav?” she asked, newly shy in her illumination.
He turned his chin into her hair in an inquiring sort of way. “My shiny groundcar? My Vorish insouciance? My astounding sexual prowess? My…my mother? Dear God, you’re not taking me for the sake of getting my um-stepfather?”
“Well, I do like them both very much, but no. What I like best about you, Ivan Xav, is that you’re nice. And you make me laugh.” She smiled now, into his shoulder.
“That…doesn’t seem like much.” He sounded a bit taken aback.
“Yes,” she sighed, “but consider the context.”

"Pym!" The Countess spotted a new victim, and her voice went a little dangerous. "I seconded you to look after Miles. Would you care to explain this scene?"

There was a thoughtful pause. In a voice of simple honesty, Pym replied, "No, Milady."

You go on. You just go on. There's nothing more to it, and there's no trick to make it easier. You just go on.