If things were different, if she'd been brought here just a few months after her time, he'd assume that her mind's eye was filled with filth. Her lips, her tits, her hands - she'd find plenty of ways to test him. It'd be torment of the most delicious sort, and as long as he didn't stab anyone in the process, they'd have a fine time. As it is, though, he assumes her distractions might run towards less charged ideas. More's the pity, really.

"You wound me," he says, clinking his glass lightly against hers once they've each been poured a bit to drink. Cheers. "You'd be surprised at what I'm capable of, when I've got my full strength."