"Certainly not. I've met the man -- once. And he looked nothing like you. Not that I'm complaining."

One could trust a Slayer to flirt with a belly wound. Who could blame her? He was rugged, able, and had a way, it seemed, of dodging her questions which only egged her onwards. "Let me lead by example, then. Robin Whitby," she touched her chest with a thumb to indicate herself. "Captain of the late Neptune's Lady. Rather keen not to be her late Captain in turn."