Cameron tosses the shot of Gin back without a thought, laying the glass out for another, "Not bad, had better o'course, but I'm sure you've got Tequila here that can shame anythin' I've tasted. Just lookin' for a taste a'home," She smiles a bit, watching the glass refilled, "Y'might not h'v been born in the Isles, but I got a feelin' y'can drink with the best of us, yeah?" she gives a bit of a toast, tossing the next shot back, drinking the first sip of her beer.<br/><br/>She looks over to the man Irene directed her towards, giving him a good eye up and down, "Marshal? Haunted man, innae? Got death hanging abou' him, that one does. Follows 'im like a lost kit. Can' tell you what caught him, Sweet, but somethin's round his neck like an anchor, I c'n practically smell it on him. Seen plen'y o' men like him back over the sea. Was li' that myself for a good while."<br/><br/>She smiles, offering the next shot up as a toast, already spilling her coins onto the bar, not sloppily, she just wanted to assure the lovely lady that she could pay. She was used to being distrusted, being a stranger did that sort of thing to a person this far out in the barren. She didn't hold it against anyone, just a fact of life. She tossed the shot back with a smile.<br/><br/>Cameron caught the quirk of the eyebrows, lofting her own, "Lo's of people got needs, Sweet, it's what le's you know people is people." Her smile twists a bit, the scar a little more prominent.