Hook's done his best over the long years to make his quarters fit the pirate persona. Fancy goblets and platters made of silver line the shelves. Maps are spread out on the table and held in place with tankards or a knife slammed through it at the corner. But if one were to snoop around, they'd see another life hidden away down in the bottom of the storage bins. They'd see his brother's things, bright and polished, all tucked away carefully.

But that's not who Killian Jones is. He's a pirate. So he takes down two pewter mugs and pours the drinks, sliding hers in front of her and taking a seat.

"So, Miss-- You know, I never got your name. How rude of me." He sets down his mug without taking a sip and holds out his hand. "Killian Jones."