Deirdre took the glass of whiskey from Jack gratefully, allowing herself a sip of her own followed by a slight expression of discomfort as it went down not quite as smooth as she'd hoped. Her eyes glanced down to Jack's hands at the confession of his identity, and when she thought about it, she did recall him mentioning problems with them at some point. Captain Hook wasn't that far of a jump, most likely.
"What would I think?" She shrugged delicately. "I'd think that it's not that far off from what people have been saying. That we have different identities, taken from stories. She paused and laughed to herself, only a trace of bitterness in it. "I'd also think that it sounds far less troublesome than your entire apartment filling up with snow..."