He does recognize that look. He hasn't provoked it on purpose—this time—but he might have if it had occurred to him. That look is vastly preferable to the one with the big watery eyes. It fits him like a familiar old coat. Much more comfortable.

It's comfort enough that he manages to keep his mouth shut instead of flailing around helplessly some more, if barely, until she's turned on her heels and walked away from him. Then it bursts out of him, in an under-the-breath mutter that it's definitely good no one is around to hear: "If I'd worn it I'd have gotten all sorts of things on it."