D is very good at accepting compliments, so good in fact that he accepts them even when they’re not entirely there.
Me: Hmmm… These biscuits [which D had bought] are very good.
D: Thank you.
Me: [about an IKEA lamp D had just assembled] It’s very pretty.
D: Why, thank you.
I can see how he might think I was complimenting him, although he hadn’t made the biscuits himself and hadn’t designed the lamp either. He was part of the whole “enjoying the thing” process so ok. But then, the other day I heard this:
Me: [complimenting somebody on something, I can’t remember who] … He’s that good.
D: So am I. Thank you.
Something in the lines of “if you’re not going to say it, I am”.