[He's following around dutifully, lagging behind every now and again to poke and prod at something, to stop and lean forward and squint at everything she's pointing out, to try and figure out the basis of technology on this stupid barge.

Her room comment gets him to pause and grin, already liking how this girl goes about things. ("Wouldn't dream of it. Dinner first, right?") Easy flirting, no real threat of a follow-through.]

Uh huh, so. We're on a magical zen ship of redemption, and we're all just hoping a group of crazy people won't slip rat poison in our food?