As a matter of fact, she happens to dislike moustaches in general; so Muldoon is in the clear. She gathers from his tone that the resemblance is something he's told often; and she can imagine the mixed feelings that might come along with that. Having not known her father, when she was told of her own resemblance to him there was some detachment there as a result; though mixed feelings of a different sort as well.

At his question she heaves a great sigh, because on this topic she thinks she's allowed to be just a touch dramatic. "Seven, I think. I lost count at some point." There's a subtle chuckle as she recalls one sitting in particular - "I fell asleep during one of them," she admits with an amused smirk. "It must have been a particularly deep sleep. Apparently I was quite irritated at having been woken, and may have cast a ...minor telekinetic spell which knocked the artist off his feet." She waves a hand. "But he was fine, just momentarily startled."

She turns her gaze back to him with a smile as she assesses how he might have reacted in a similar situation. "I have a feeling you would utterly loathe having to sit for hours for someone to paint your portrait."