[ Klaasje takes the straw obediently when it's offered, humming agreement around it as she enjoys another sip of violently red, sweet ice crystals. Her eyelashes shade her gaze as she takes in his poor, abused jacket - and then she laughs, a low, surprised ripple that has her covering her mouth with the back of her hand. ]

Your secrets are safe with me, flotsam.

[ Her hand drops to cover her sternum, instead, fingers fanned out over the swell of her ribs as her lungs fill. ]

Here's to this being one of those all-inclusive kind of places...and I didn't even think to look for a chocolate on my pillow.

[ She puts a little arch affectation into the last sentence, an echo of heiresses and trophy wives from the radio dramas. ]