Alfred had been here once or twice before, and had recommended it because he knew it had a patio and she had made some comment about how unseasonably nice the weather was, given that it was London in February, and it had seemed a shame to go hide away in some poorly lit back corner of a pub considering the sunlight right outside. So far, she'd done nearly all of the talking, and more drinking than he had, too, but only by about half a pint. He didn't particularly mind on either count. He was inherently interested in stories from around the world, since so many were comparable to his own experiences, and he understood that it was rare to find someone who actually wanted to listen to them within the normal bounds of English society. And the drinking... well, he wasn't going to judge anyone for drinking, regardless of gender. He was a sailor, after all.

The first question she turned on him was a challenging one to answer, though. Love wasn't really the word he used when thinking about the places that he'd been — everything had its pros and cons, once you got past the initial wonder of being someplace completely new. The place he would always remember the most fondly was the place he'd lived in the tribe, but did that really answer the question either?

"Well, that's tricky — I think of my time in South America as a bit more than a visit," he pointed out with a grin. "But sometimes I miss it. Certain parts of it, anyway."