She wishes she could smirk with the superior knowledge that he absolutely finds it hot, but it's not true. "Doubt it," she snorts. "Seeing as if I did, you would've jumped me about two weeks into the Academy when I started bitching at you for all the space infections you were bound to pick up," she says, drinking back most of the glass in one go and when she repours, there isn't as much water this time.

No guarantee means no reason to start planning ahead yet, it all she figures.