"I ... can't imagine anyone shooting at you for no reason," Jaime said, a faint smile touching her lips. She moved one hand, her palm gently cupping his cheek as she gazed at him. "I think I'm the one who has to worry about you getting sick of me," she pointed out softly.
She gazed into his eyes, studying his face. While she didn't for a moment believe he'd make an offer he didn't mean, she was curious if he'd thought about it prior to this. If he'd ever wondered -- like she had -- what it would be like for them in his world.
"At least I can be useful, right? Finding you piles of treasure or unmarked ... credits or whatever." She trailed her fingertips along his throat to the collar of his shirt. "You're not just ... saying this to be nice and I'm supposed to decline, right? Because ... I'd rather go with you."