"All in good time, my esteemed hayseed," you say, raising your hands. "I prithee, gentles, hold thy requests—but feel no compunction to hold thy applause!"
You raise your voice and strike a wild pose, encouraging the crowd to applaud you for no particular reason. They oblige, by and large, chuckling at your temerity—though some seem dissatisfied.
Luca, for her part, applauds with the rest of them, unconcerned that you sidestepped her request. A cool head saved you from embarrassment. [+Phlegm]
Onward