There's no hiding the surprise that slowly overtakes her face at his explanation, for when she carefully picks her way through the implications, Margaery looks even more awed.

"You're... not human?"

Perhaps it's her naivete still lurking about, making her subconsciously assume that every non-human will have some sort of indicator on their person; Loxley and his horns, Astarion and his ears.

"Ah, where I'm from, height is for those who seem to be touched by the gods. We had stories of actual giants in the freezing north, beyond our borders, but so many scoffed at those claims that I could not tell you with certainty if they truly existed. But perhaps your height stands out to me because I'm accustomed to seeing men of your stature with armor, carrying intimidation as a second skin."

But she's quick to add, "I much prefer your countenance, sir. Speaking to you comes easily - and I feel safe."