Aira lets out an incredulous huff while she aggressively cracks open a crab leg. Flecks of juice fly, and she dunks the exposed meat into some melted butter.

"Yeah right, since when have you been all mercenary like that? But if there's something nice you actually want, then you better let me know."

That should be a familiar insistence at this point. Really, there's more going on here: Aira doesn't like that she had to be rescued like some damsel, and hates the idea that she might not be pulling her own weight even more.