He was not quite so intoxicated as to not have noticed her hesitation, but she did slip into the bed next to him without complaint, which made him smile slightly. While she looked at him, he turned his attention towards the wooden beams that held the rack above them. The light wasn't as good down here as it sometimes was — only one of the several lamps had been left lit — and it wasn't as easy to see into the dark corner as he'd thought it would have been. He frowned and reached up to run his fingers over the board. He wasn't carrying his wand, and he didn't know any tribal magic to create light, unfortunately, so he supposed there wouldn't be much to see after all.

"Ah, it's too dark," he mumbled — there was no need to speak loudly when she was only a few inches away from him. "Here, give me your hand," he said, but didn't wait for her to offer it before he reached out to lightly take the hand closest to him in his own. Bringing it up to the board, he pressed her fingers up against a deep groove in the wood grain, then looked back at her with a wide grin.

"Feel that? Those are my initials," he said, inordinately proud of what was, for all extents and purposes, only graffiti. "I carved them up here when I was — probably your age, I guess. This was where I lived for two years," he said, leaning back against the wall to one side so that he could see her more clearly. "When we went to the Far East and back. This was my ship back then, too."