It would have been blissfully ease to live a life of nothing but leisure. She had spent the better part of a decade chasing one adventure after another without stopping to wonder if she might improve the situations she saw around herself, and where she had no regrets over those glorious years, she had found that there was thrill and satisfaction as well in finding justice where it was so very needed. There was no question that she enjoyed the rush of chasing down murderers and loved the feeling of having solved some complicated mystery and picked apart what had really happened beneath all the lies and deceptions.

It had proved to be more than a little addicting. So much so that when offered a timeless world of adventure and possibility, she still had needed to go searching for a place she could tip the scales of justice with a gun in her hand and the wind at her back.

She smiled broadly at his offer, reaching out to take the bottle from him and taking a drink of it, unrepentant. The hand not occupied with the cool glass and the weight of rum yet undrunk caught at his bicep, her gloved fingers curling against the muscle. "But we do have a roaring fire already," she reminded him, her smile cutting deeper into one cheek than the other as she tipped her head toward the burning wreckage of the ship they'd just attacked. "And doesn't it make quite the backdrop."