That raised eyebrow is far too familiar to Gordin, triggers a strange burst of energy that has him clenching his fists and blurting out his reply with more ferocity than necessary.
"I know I don't! But..."

But what? What's so special about this woman that he's so damn compelled to gain her respect (or as much of it as little beetles like him are likely to get)? Maybe it's her eyes; something about them reminds Gordin of his teacher, a man so thoroughly exhausted with the world that he can only see it in terms of strategies. He'd had an advantage then, as a promising young apprentice; here, he has nothing and be damned if that's going to stop him now.

"...But if one day you could think that I'm not useless or something, that would mean that I've become someone worthwhile. I want to become someone who people can rely on, or at least not laugh at and I just-- I think that would be a good way to measure it if someone as cool as you could think at least a little highly of me, ma'am."
It's not really helping his case that he sounds so uncertain of himself (being so blunt about his emotions is truly a trial), but there's some determination in the set of his jaw that helps offset his usual dithering.