[Javert is not laughing. He watches her fit with a bland face, his brow creeping further up his forehead. When he speaks again, his voice is remarkably sedate and quiet.]

Blame my newly-acquired slang lexicon. Now, then. How many times has it been for you? Everything accounted for?

[He has his own count, but he wants to ensure that it is correct. He slides the plant closer to her.]

I can arrange a meal for you should you need it.