"Bold to assume you'll be the last down." She takes the cup and shifts in her seat, leaning an arm on the table. "Some people hide who they're bedding, or which floorboard their gold's under. Some people have secrets. Let's go, then."

This time she's not underestimating him. The woman drains her cup like she's been in the desert for a month and slams it back down before Jim's.

"-Hah!" A moment to catch her breath. "My turn then. Just what kind of ship do you run, captain? Merchantman, warship? One of those river barges?" Or, she's wondering, maybe something more illicit.