In Lyra's experience, laughing at whores meant one of two things: Prudishness, which she doubted to be the case now. Or the terminally repressed, who really could probably benefit form a good whore. Or three.

At the marvelously oblivious insistence on a lack of steam-blowing-off... Lyra settled on probably the latter. Bard'll be interested in you, too, I'm sure. She snickered back.

Then cocked at ear, watching as Benji made a play. The end of the world wasn't the most romantic of settings. But it could be a lusty one, in the right circumstance. Lyra could stand to blow off a bit of steam, even if she had no intentions of making herself easy to an untested pollywog. The Captain smirked, And maybe more'n just the bard...

Lifting her own tail to brush under Benji's chin, Never had either? Psh, well, ye 'ave t'come back wit me, then. Stumblin' over our claim might be the best damn thing what's ever happened to ye, Longlegs.