The marine took in the details of her figure, filing it away to piece her out better. He left his arm on the back of the booth chair behind her neck, not really caring how it looked or not; it was comfortable.

A small snort at the suggestion, "Hate these places," he scoffed. "Rum's okay, they probably cater to pirates," it was a strange method of finding pirates; the stronger pirates usually had better tastes in alcohol and the White Hunter was used to finding places frequented by them accordingly. It helped that they carried the good rum. "But it doesn't quite make up for the music selection." Definitely didn't help that he had sensitive ears. "I'm waiting for someone," he explained casually.