"Ah!" Jacee didn't quite manage to bite back a second yelp of shock as the stranger disappeared, then reappeared before her in the space of a second, "Would ye... YOU stop doing that?! What are you, some kind of bloody ninja?!" She huffed at him glaring sideways at him as he pitched his offer. She felt her eyes narrow the more he spoke.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0080"><span style="font-style: italic">An assassin with an interest in historical places... That's convincing.</span></span><br/><br/>Jacee raised an eyebrow at him as he asked about her origins. She wasn't sure how much she was willing to tell this man.<br/><br/>"And... If I mind?" She challenged him haughtily, some of her schooling regarding the aristocracy finally paying off, "I'll tell you what I'm comfortable with you knowing- no more than that." She decided to appease him for now, leaving the matter of his offer on the back burner for now; that would take some more serious contemplation, and Jacee didn't have nearly enough alcohol in her system to handle that at the moment.<br/><br/>"My name is James Corbut Allen, Jr. Named for my grandfather... Exactly. I typically use the abbreviation, J.C in conversation, though it is often misconstrued for Jacee, and shortened to Jace," She gave a helpless shrug, "Doesn't really matter to me, though. I grew up in a stuffy wretch of a town, where propriety and social status made the difference between prosperity and destitution. I was schooled- against my wishes- in proper mannerisms by my Auntie Jane... The witch I mentioned earlier. It was my uncle, the rogue of the family, who sparked my interest in the sky... He taught me that freedom can be earned by anyone, even when it seems the world is naught but a prison. He taught me to fly," Jacee took a seat on the ramp, turning her back to the stranger, "Airships, jets, fighters, choppers... The lot of the flying craft. Thanks to him, I can get anything off the ground. He inspired me to build Hell's Gate," She gave the ship another loving pat, "I started when I was sixteen, salvaging scrap metal and molding it to what you see now. I finished when I was twenty-one, a little over a year ago. Since then I've been a freelance cargo ship, using the money from my jobs to go where the wind takes me."<br/><br/>She glanced up at the man, "What about you? What business does an assassin have with a freelance wanderer? What purpose do you seek in Avalon, should it truly exist?