He has never wanted to pat someone's hand and call them sweetie more than right this moment. Fortunately, he now lacks the coordination for that, and can't quite recall the word sweetie. He plunks back in his seat, Midori in hand, and nods sagely as she disavows all of piracy as being uncool.

"Good--that's the spirit," he lifts the bottle in salute and sways back on the stool. "What were we--oh yes, Pirates are idiots and don't take shit from anybody. Good talk."

Nevermind that the person she's currently taking shit from his him. It's possible he'd understand her utterly different material conditions if he were both sober, and realized she's contemporary with the technology here. It's unlikely, of course, but possible. As is, he feels both like he's done a good turn for an ailing vagrant and like he's had a pissy spat with a friend.

Both are true, somewhat.

"This green stuff is--" Lucius points at the bottle blearily. "--much stronger than I expected."